


What's Mine is Yours

by FireSoul



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Frost is trying, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 09:50:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 112,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireSoul/pseuds/FireSoul
Summary: Frost had a night of fun, now she and Caitlin are both dealing with the consequences. But the thing about consequences is they can get complicated, quickly. And they can change everything, forever.





	1. Consequences

_“You gotta ask your other half about this?”_

_Her smile spreads wide, her hand splayed on his chest and continuing to push him insistently towards the bed._

_“Already done.” She purrs, “She says so long as you’re clean, we’re fine.”_

* * *

Caitlin frowns when she wakes up in the morning to the immediate feeling of her stomach churning. She has no idea what she’s caught, but she wishes it would just go away already. The past few days she’s been waking up nauseous, and two hours earlier than she’d prefer, but nothing ever comes of the sick feeling. It has to be stress. Food poisoning would’ve had her heaving violently by now and be over and done with. She supposes it could be a more mild case, but no matter how she wracks her brain she can’t think of anything she’s eaten lately that could’ve done this to her.

She groans and rolls onto her back, inhaling deeply and moving her hands up under her sleep shirt and settling them on her stomach. It helps, a little, lying flat rather than on her side.

When it finally starts to feel like it’s helped enough she wills herself up onto her elbows and reaches for the water cup she’s started filling each night and keeping on her nightstand. There is still some liquid left from last night, and she gulps it slowly. Once it’s gone she tries to lay back and return to sleep, and while the nausea is mostly faded away now she is already too awake, and so she lets her mind wander to possible culprits behind her sudden nausea.

It’s probably her period, in all honesty. She’d skipped last month and worried, naturally, but her cycle has messed with her on occasion before, and now with the early morning nausea this next one is likely coming with a vengeance. It sucks, but it’ll all be over in a week or so, depending on when she actually gets her period.

Or, maybe not.

The week comes and goes and then so does the next, and still nothing but the daily nausea in terms of her period, and that nausea is getting worse.

She’s feeling it well into the day now. It will usually stop for a little while, some days, but it’s gotten into the habit of picking back up again. Water helps, a little. She’s started carrying around a bottle throughout the day, which is probably a good habit to be in anyway. A part of her does consider the option that this nausea isn’t related to her incoming – and slow torturing- period and that she’s actually contracted something, but then while getting dressed one morning she notices her breasts give a slight sting of tenderness when the rough cotton of her shirt rubs the wrong way against her nipples; something that is always a sign of a period coming for her within the next two or three days.

Yet even as another week passes by, it still hasn’t come.

At this point she’s fed up. She feels sick every day, her breasts feel tender on and off depending on how she moves, and still she hasn’t seen even the slightest drop of blood in either her underwear or the toilet.

Seriously, what gives?

Her stomach feels worse than usual this morning, and she groans miserably as she rolls onto her back to try and settle it. This time, however, the simple movement of rolling over is enough to upset her innards more and suddenly she’s bolting upright, one hand slapping over her mouth as though it will do anything to keep things in. She races from her bedroom down the hall to the bathroom, where she collapses in front of the toilet and heaves up last night’s dinner.

The sudden surge of her stomach doesn’t last too long. She throws up twice and then she feels better, not great, but not like she’s going to throw up again. She flushes the toilet and then sits back against the tub, thinking.

Something is definitely wrong.

She’s thrown up from a normal period before, on occasion, all the way back when she was a teenager and not yet on birth control. But that hadn’t felt like this. She had felt cramps; painful cramps that made her unable to even stand right. It had been the pain that made her vomit, and it had unquestionably been the worst toilet-related experience of her life. It’d felt different. She’d needed to get sick, desperately, but her stomach hadn’t wanted to. This wasn’t like that.

She tilts her head back and inhales deep through her nose, trying to come up with other rational causes for what she’s been feeling lately. With an upset stomach and tender breasts, not to mention her previously missed period and this one that doesn’t seem to want to come, the first thing to come to her mind is obviously pregnancy. But that isn’t possible, she hasn’t had sex in…

Her eyes fly open.

_She_hasn’t had sex, but_Frost _had that night about…

A little over two months ago.

Crap.

She gets up with a renewed energy and definite urgency, which doesn’t help her still queasy stomach any but she doesn’t worry about it, suddenly too preoccupied. She rushes through getting dressed, thankful that waking up earlier lately means she won’t have to worry about this making her late for work, and within five minutes she is out the door.

The supermarket has just opened so there is almost no one inside, and she isn’t sure if she’s grateful for that or not. She supposes grateful, less chance of running into someone she knows.

She makes a b-line for the “Family Planning” section and takes in the variety of tests. She knows they’re all on about the same level in terms of accuracy, so she isn’t overly worried about buying the wrong brand. Still, she selects two different brands; both of which spells out the words “Pregnant” and “Not Pregnant” and one of them coming with two in a box. Once she has those she tries to think of whether or not she needs anything else here, but she’s coming up short and really there isn’t anything she could get that would make buying three pregnancy test less conspicuous. So instead she goes right to the counter, and the teenager who rings her up is blissfully too tired to give her any sort of look as he tells her the total.

She pays him, takes her bag, and goes, grumbling as she crosses the parking lot to her car.

“Frost I swear, if you got us pregnant I am going to kill you.”

That’s when her furiously marching pace slows.

She doesn’t get a response.

She still isn’t the best at communicating with Frost, at least not when she’s the one on the surface. It’s much easier to take over for a split second to get a message across from within than the other way around. Being under is kind of like being asleep and waking at odd times. She’ll catch a glimpse of stray comments here and there, normally things that are important, but occasionally some random remarks as well. She assumes it works that way for Frost too, though threats like that one are usually on her list of “wake up and answer”.

“Frost.” She hisses, not too loudly, even though there is currently no one else walking through the parking lot.

“Killer Frost.” She sneers as she reaches her car, “Are you sleeping or are you just ignoring me?”  
She feels it then, a slight twinge of something in the back of her mind, and she rolls her eyes.

Ignoring, definitely ignoring.

“I can’t believe you.” She huffs, climbing into the car and slamming the door shut after her. “Did you not use a condom?”

_“You’re the one who takes the pill every morning.”_

She blinks, her eyes coming back to the light of day from a brief glimpse of darkness.

“You still need to use a condom.” She growls, getting situated and finally starting the car. “You know, I can’t believe I am even having this conversation with you! When we get home, you are coming out, and you are taking these tests.”

_“No way in hell.”  
_

She seethes at the firm reply, her grip tightening on the steering wheel.

“Do not chime in like that while I’m driving.”

_“You’re the one nagging me.”_

“I am not…” She cuts herself off, and through clenched teeth sucks in a deep breath. Driving is not the ideal time to get into an argument with her other half, not unless she’s also looking to get into an accident.

“Fine. We will talk about this at home, alright?”

She doesn’t get an answer, which she supposes, is an answer in itself.

* * *

By the time she gets home Frost still isn’t speaking, or giving any indication that she’s even awake. Caitlin considers just taking the tests and getting it over with, something this important she should know as soon as possible. Still, out of pure bitterness, she would rather Frost take the tests. She’s the one who got them into this potential mess; she should be the one dealing with the consequences. But this is something they’ll both have to deal with the consequences of, if it turns out to be true. Besides, with a lack of communication, she can’t guess when Frost will next feel like coming out, and she really doesn’t want to go some undetermined amount of time not knowing if she is pregnant or not.

Just the thought is enough to make her nauseous again; she really can’t handle walking around unsure of that.

She sighs, she doesn’t have much time left before work, but she has enough. She takes her little bag into the bathroom with her, rustling it open and first selecting the box that comes with only one test. She starts scanning through the instructions on the back, even if it is fairly self-explanatory. Research has always been her way of coping with the unexpected, and this is certainly unexpected. Reading the directions grounds her; at least enough so that her heart is only pounding a little bit by the time she sits down on the toilet.

“Ok.” She says quietly to herself, her hand fumbling with the stick between her legs, trying to gauge a good position that might keep as much urine off of her hands as possible.

A memory of Cisco, of all people, crosses her mind just then. The time he started snickering at her and teasing that she “loves urine” after she asked Barry for a sample, to make sure he was as well recovered as he claimed from the Speed Force.

What she wouldn’t give for Cisco’s jokes right now.

She could call him, actually, but he’s probably just waking up right now. What would she even say? “Hey, Frost slept with someone a few weeks ago and now I think I might be pregnant, would you mind coming over here and sitting outside the bathroom door while I take the test?”

Ok, she would probably say exactly that, and he would probably come right over. If he hadn’t taken the cure and could still breech over she might actually do it. But they have to be at S.T.A.R. Labs in an hour and with the time it’s going to take him just to get here, and then for them both to get there… She would like to have some time between taking the tests and leaving for work to process the results.

So, alone it will be.

“Ok, come on.” She mutters to herself, because in all this time of thinking she still hasn’t peed. “You can do this. Just pee on the stick, no big deal. Just pee, get it over and done with.”

Let the record show she doesn’t normally have to give herself a pep talk just to go to the bathroom, but this is an extenuating circumstance.

Once she’s peed on all three tests she turns them face down on the sink and washes her hands, then sets the timer on her phone for three minutes.

Three very long minutes.

She isn’t going to bother attempting to get ahold of Frost in her mind, not after that car ride. Instead she occupies her thoughts with trying to decide what she’s going to do in the event these tests come out positive.

If they’re negative it’ll be easy. She’ll go back through her symptoms and probably go to her gynecologist, because something is definitely out of the ordinary here.

But, if they’re positive, well that complicates things.

For one thing, this potential baby inside of her isn’t even hers, technically. It’s Frost’s. Although if the egg didn’t fertilize right away, then would it be hers? But it’s Frost’s deed that put them in this situation, but does that matter? Is there even a difference, genetically, between her and Frost? She doesn’t think so, but then again she isn’t a traditional meta, and she hasn’t looked deep enough into her father’s research to know the answer to a question like that, but she does know it isn’t something she should be guessing on.

Especially not with this hanging in the balance.

The chiming song of her alarm breaks her from her thoughts; those three minutes weren’t nearly as long as she’d thought they’d be. She moves for the first test, her hand shaking, and she just gets it in her grasp when a familiar chill runs up her spine.

She just barely catches a glimpse of the result before everything in her world goes black.


	2. Can You Keep a Secret?

When Frost opens her eyes the test is shaking in her fingers, and it takes her a second to realize that her entire hand is moving with it.

Still, she can make out the life altering little message despite it.

_Pregnant._

Shit.

She shutters in a breath, and takes a step back. She wants to go back in, bring Caity out here to deal with this. She tries even, but whether it’s Caity being stubborn, asleep, or even her own mind scrambling in ten different directions she can’t do it. She’s here, for the foreseeable future, and she has to deal with this.

Shit.

The first thing she does is shut off Caity’s musical and irritating little alarm but once that headache inducer is gone it’s suddenly too quiet and all she can hear is her own thoughts, which are a jumbled mess to say the least.

She tries to think. What would Caity do? She would go to someone, right? One of their friends? Which one?

Ralph is the first to come to mind, even if she doubts he would be Caity’s first choice. She knows him better than she knows the others, though, and he gets her a little more than the others do. He’s still kind of the new guy at S.T.A.R. Labs, an outsider, like her. Not to mention he’s every bit the screw up she is, self admitted on both accounts.

Mind made up she quickly turns over the other two tests, and yep, those each yield the same result as the first. She leaves them on the counter for Caity to find later, in case she missed the result before she took over. But she takes the first test with her, dropping it into Caity’s purse before she grabs the keys and heads out.

Her mind keeps wanting to jump ahead, think about what she’s going to say to Ralph or even any other the others should she run into them first, and a nagging little voice that sounds suspiciously more like her conscience than Caity – even if the two do sound similar- tells her that she should also tell Cisco because that is who Caity would tell. But shouldn’t she let Caity have that one? Let her tell him? She’ll need to work through this too.

Ugh, one problem at a time.

Driving is one thing, the stoplights are one thing, and one thing she doesn’t really have the patience for. She stares down those red orbs every time she hits one, and yet still scowls at the green ones for letting her get closer to her destination without a fight. The closer she gets, the sooner she has to talk. But the longer this takes, the longer she’s going to be mentally unraveling.

She growls in frustration, this is why she doesn’t like problems she can’t stab.

Fifteen minutes later and she’s in the parking lot of S.T.A.R. Labs, too late and all too early at the same time. She takes her time getting out of the car, checking three times that she has everything, which is ridiculous considering “everything” is nothing more than the contents of her purse.

She doesn’t cross paths with anyone on her way in, not even in the halls or the elevator. If she hadn’t seen all their cars in the parking lot she might worry she were the first one here.

Of course that isn’t the case, and most of them are milling about the cortex when she arrives. Iris and Cisco are at the computers, talking about some security matter or something. Joe is here too, hovering next to his daughter, and Barry is walking around looking like he’s lost something. The usual brand of controlled chaos, it appears.

Barry is the first to notice her, gaping at her. Iris catches his look and turns next, her lips parting as well while Cisco takes the lollipop out of his mouth.

“Frost. Hey.” Iris says, breaking the heavy silence. “Is everything ok?”

She… She doesn’t know how to answer that.

She gulps, “I…” She stutters, hating how cracky her voice sounds to her ears. “I need to talk to Ralph.”

Oh God, she feels sick. She can’t tell if it’s anxiety or... she can’t even think the other thing, but whichever it is it can’t happen here. Please, not here. Not now.

Not yet.

“He’s in the lounge, getting coffee.” Iris tells her, pointing a finger in the direction of the lounge for emphasis.

She nods, small and quick, but doesn’t move. Iris, still suspicious as the rest of them, raises an eyebrow.

“Are you alright?”  
No. No she is not alright. She is very far from alright. But she nods anyway, the movement jerky and probably not fooling anyone.

“Yeah.” She says; did her voice get smaller again? “I’m fine, Caity’s fine. I just… there’s something I need to deal with.”

She’s pretty sure that doesn’t put anyone’s mind at ease, if anything it probably worries them more. Therefor she isn’t surprised when after she leaves there are quick footsteps following her, and Cisco calling her name.

She turns back, and he comes to a stop, but he doesn’t say anything at first.

The two of them are complicated, to say the least. Caity trusts him, more so than anybody, including her. He, in turn, bristles with worry for just the slightest fraction of a second every time she comes around. She appreciates that, to tell the truth, she likes knowing there is someone out here who cares about Caity as much as she does.

But at the same time, there are days where that look burns all the way down into her icy heart and makes her want to freeze it right off his face. No matter how well the two of them manage to get along, that look is always there. On some level, in his mind, she will always be the parasite that took over Caity and trapped her in her own mind.

“Caity’s fine.” She tells him again, “This is my problem.”

He doesn’t look convinced at all, and licks his lips while his mind likely scrambles for something to say.

“What can I do?”

The small smile that comes to her face is, for the record, genuine.

“Let me talk to Ralph.” She answers. “Caity’s going to tell you everything once she gets back. Ok?”

He still doesn’t look happy about her answer, not that she blames him. She could tell him a thousand times that everything is perfectly fine but until he hears the entirety of things he is going to be worried sick. The problem is once he hears the entirety of things, he’s going to know she’s lying and everything is very far from ok.

“Ok.” He says, and he stays frozen another second, but after she turns and starts back on her way she hears his footsteps fading behind her, off to report back to the others.

The walk down to the lounge feels longer than usual, and it doesn’t help that her stomach is rolling around over itself inside of her the entire time. She does her best to keep her mind off of it, on her destination, but she does have a moment of wishing she had thought to grab Caity’s water bottle before she left the apartment.

By some miracle she manages to refrain from losing her… dinner. Crap. She hasn’t eaten, and Caity threw up this morning. Great.

She can probably stomach something small, she hopes she can at least, and when she arrives in the lounge Ralph is still only midway through his morning fight against the coffee machine, so she has a few seconds before she can have his attention.

But only that much.

He notices her coming towards the bar with a glance over his shoulder, greeting her with a casual “Hey Elsa,” as she rips a banana from the bunch sitting in the fruit bowl and a day away from rotting.

She doesn’t reply to him at first, which is fine because he’s preoccupied with banging on the side of the coffee machine until it finally comes trickling out into the pot.

“Why don’t you just use those little cups?” She asks; she knows they have a perfectly good machine for those.

“It’s hard to get the coffee just the way I like it with those.” He shrugs, leaning down on his arms onto the countertop.

“Burnt?” She asks, eyebrow raised, and he makes a mocking little face at her in response.

“So what’s up?” He asks, “You’re not usually awake this early.”

Well, he’s got a point there.

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead she keeps her gaze almost in a trance on her banana, idly wondering if nearly rotten fruit is safe for the baby, or anyone for that matter. It’s probably fine, there’s only one brown spot on the actual banana and it’s slight. Besides, she’s feeling a lot less queasy, and that can only be a good thing.

“I’m pregnant.”

She hasn’t been looking at him, but the sound of a crash and an exclamation of pain changes that. He’s dropped the coffee pot, and spilt the contents all over himself. She winces, and lays down her banana then uses her hands to send a light chill his way, enough to at least cool the coffee soaking into him and prevent it from leaving behind any nasty burns.

He scrambles with napkins, wiping the mess off of himself, and when most of it is cleaned up he throws the sopping napkins away and whirls around in an unsteady circle, trying to see if there is anything else that needs cleaning up.

There is, of course, starting with a smashed coffee pot, but he looks back to her.

“Uh… I’m sorry, what?” He asks, “You… You’re…. I didn’t even realize Caitlin was seeing someone.”

She starts picking at the edge of her banana peel then, her eyes suddenly focused on it rather than him.

“She’s not.” She says, “I did it.”

“You?” Ralph nearly chokes, his eyes wide and finger pointed at her unbelievingly. “You got Caitlin pregnant?”

“Not like that, you idiot.” She exclaims, rolling her eyes with the stupidity of that remark. “I slept with someone, and now here we are.”

“Oh.” He says, deciding to once again lean down on the surface of the counter. “Ok. So, does Caitlin know?”

“I can’t exactly keep something like that from her.” She says with a glare.

“Ok, ok, jeez, sorry. Just trying to get the story straight.”

She rolls her eyes again, but there’s no heat to it. If anything there is remorse. She wants his help, but in order for him to help her he needs to understand what’s going on with her; something she barely understands.

“So… What do you want to do?”

Is she supposed to have an answer to that already?

She fiddles more with the banana peel, trying to come up with at least some semblance of an answer. But Ralph’s heavy gaze on her is too much, and she knows she isn’t going to be coming up with anything any time soon. It’s the reason she came to him in the first place.

“I don’t know.”

Her voice is small, much like back in the cortex. It scares her, feeling this lost. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt this way.

“Ok, well…” Ralph trails off, trying come up with _something _helpful to say. “I’m going to assume you aren’t still seeing this guy you slept with?”

She scoffs, but it’s as good a place to start as any, probably the best actually.

“Nope.” She confirms, “Haven’t seen him since it happened.”

Ralph nods, his hands ringing together awkwardly.

“Do you have his number or anything?”

She furrows her brow, staring at him with the utmost confusion.

“Why?” She asks, and he pales.

“Uh… You know, just if you don’t know what you want to do, and it _is _his kid, maybe you should ask him about it?”

He doesn’t sound totally confident with that suggestion, and she’s not totally sure what kind of answer her face is giving right now. She hadn’t even considered that, considered him, and oh crap she really is in deep here.

“Yeah.” She answers, quietly. “I can get in touch with him. I just… he’s going to ask me the same question you just did, right?”

Ralph’s nod is slow, awkward, just like everything else in this conversation.

“Maybe…” He trails off, “But you don’t have to have an answer ready. Sometime it’s easier for people to figure out stuff like this together.”

“You’ve done this before?” She asks before she can think better of it, but she has no regrets about it; not when he gives her a cocky smile.

“I’m a P.I. and a former police detective, I’ve seen unexpected pregnancies before.”

She smirks a little, just at the corner of her mouth.

“You planted evidence.” She reminds him, and he frowns, but she only smiles more.

Not for long, however.

“I have to talk to Caity, too.” She eventually says, “Sharing a body and everything, this seems like something that’ll have to be a mutual decision.”

Ralph nods, his face both serious and curious.

“What do you think she’ll say?”

She tries to give that some thought. Her mind goes back to this morning, to the slow realization of what is going on with their body, before the haze was abruptly sliced through with the angry and grumbled declaration of _“Frost I swear, if you got us pregnant I am going to kill you.”_

Based on that, she can’t say she thinks Caity will be too happy.

But, Caity’s always been softer than she is, and far more reasonable.

“Well she’s already tried lecturing me.” She says, taking another bite off her banana. “Don’t blame her. Once she gets over that… I don’t know. I definitely think she’ll want to have it, at the least, wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted to keep it.”

She can feel Ralph’s eyes on her as she finishes her banana. He probably wants to ask how she feels about that, but she’s already given him an answer. She doesn’t know.

“Hey,” he finally says, getting her attention. “Whatever you and Caitlin decide, if you need to talk again, you know where to find me, ok? It’s the least I can do after all the times you’ve pulled my head out of my ass.”

She ducks her head and snorts, “Thanks Ralph,” she says, and then she gets up.

She can feel Caity’s consciousness coming forward. She’s had her conversation, now it’s time fore Caity’s.

* * *

After Frost leaves for the lounge, Cisco is understandably worried. Actually, he’s been worried from the moment she showed up.

She is, essentially, Caitlin’s defense mechanism. How could he not be worried? What could have happened between yesterday afternoon and this morning, that the team wasn’t alerted to, that caused her to show up?

“Cisco?”

“Gah!” He jumps in his chair, his hand flying to grab at where his heart is.

Caitlin is standing in the doorway of his workshop, no trace of Frost in sight other than that same little frown she’d walked in with this morning.

“Hey,” he says, practically springing to his feet. “Are you ok? Frost was here this morning but she wouldn’t say why. She just said she needed Ralph.”

She nods, pushing herself out of the doorway.

“I know.” She says, but despite the statement her expression is one of uncertainty. “You uh… You might want to sit down.”

He does not like the sound of that.

“Oh… Ok.” He sits down, and she pulls up a stool across from him, and then she explains everything.

Well, not everything. She doesn’t tell him who the baby daddy is, she says that one is Frost’s secret to tell, but she does promise him that it isn’t Ralph despite Frost’s need to talk with him. That’s a relief, he doesn’t think he could ever look Ralph in the eye again if he found out he slept with Caitlin. Well, Frost, but still.

“So what now?” He asks, after he has taken more than a few minutes to digest everything. “Is this a congrats situation? Or…”

“I don’t know.” She answers, “First I want to look more into my dad’s notes.”

From the look she gives him, he knows his sigh has been aloud.

“Why?” He asks, no point in hiding his opinion now. “You’ve been over those a hundred times.”

“Looking for him.” She reminds him, “The revelation that he created Frost was something we never looked deep into. Not in terms of what made her.”

“What are you talking about?” He asks, finding some strength for his voice that isn’t hampered by the shockwave of everything she’s just told him. “It was your dad’s experimental gene therapy, remember?”

“And we don’t know what that did.” She answers quickly, firmly, but he supposes he deserves that for the dismissive tone of his questions.

“Cisco, he was splicing my genes. We share a body, but genetically we have no idea if Frost and I are the same.”

He feels his eyes widen; he hadn’t even considered that.

He just stares at her at first, trying to process the sheer idea of that and what it could mean for this kid, not to mention for her.

“Why can’t our lives ever be normal?”


	3. Fine

Caitlin tries to focus on the research, but despite her best efforts her mind just keeps getting away from her.

Her father was nothing if not diligent with recording all his findings, even as Icicle took over it seems. Something they were both interested in to the highest extent was Frost, so there is more than enough notes on her genetic make-up and the like. She could probably have this all sorted out by the end of the day if she tried, tomorrow at the latest.

The key word: IF.

The words all seem to trail off into nothingness after a sentence or two; eventually interrupted by a churn of her stomach and she’s brought back to reality. Even so, she then starts thinking about the forthcoming future. A baby. One that belongs to either her or Frost, and while she’s sure that will logistically matter in the long run there are so many other things she has to consider. Maternity clothes, baby-proofing the apartment. Telling everyone, which includes the father.

How is _that _going to pan out?

Even if she ends up telling the others who it is, she is definitely going to let Frost deal with telling him. She can’t imagine her friends are going to take well to discovering her other half slept with Mick Rory, and with her permission too. She hadn’t been overly wild about the idea, she probably wouldn’t have done it had she been the one on the surface, but she and Frost have been with each other long enough by now to have figured out a system for sex. Always ask, never question the answer, and unless something goes wrong always stay asleep under the surface.

Frost had asked, and she doesn’t really mind Mick so she said yes, and then she conked out until the next morning after Frost said Mick was gone. End of story.

Or, apparently not,

She wonders how he’ll take the news. She’s never pictured him as the type to want children. She’s ok with that, in all honesty. If the baby is hers and he wants nothing to do with it or her then she’s sure she can figure out the whole single mom thing. Her mother did it, so she already knows everything not to do.

However, if the baby is Frost’s… well she doesn’t know what Frost will want to do if Mick wants nothing to do them; or if he does for that matter.

That thought makes her grimace, and suddenly she’s hoping he won’t want anything to do with any of this.

The worst part about it is no matter what happens, this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Her brain decides to lock onto this whole mess of Mick and Frost and she pulls open the top drawer of her desk, sifting through it until she comes up with the cerebral inhibitor. She gets up from her chair, practically marching from her office and down to Cisco’s workshop.

“Cisco?” She asks when she gets to the door.

He jumps, much like he had earlier, with one hand grasping at his chest and this time the other extinguishes the fire on his blowtorch before it moves to tilt up his mask and expose his adorably worried eyes.

“Are you ok?” He asks, once he’s caught his breath. “What is it?”

“I’m fine.” She promises, and she sees him exhale in relief. She takes a step in, and holds up the inhibitor for him to see. “I need to talk to Frost.”

He already looks confused, but when she says that his brow furrows even deeper, his frown stretching further.

“I thought you guys had a handle on that?”

“We do.” She admits, “For a few words here and there, not for a long conversation.”

“And this needs a long conversation.” He fills in, nodding, and she doesn’t need to specify what _this _is.

“Exactly. I was thinking about how Harry originally made this to work while Cecil was asleep, and I was wondering if maybe you could fix it so that Frost and I can talk during REM sleep? Kind of like lucid dreaming?”

He nods and holds out his hand for the device. “Yeah.” He says hastily, “I can do that.”

“Thank you.” She says, smiling in return. He smiles back, though a bit closed mouthed and awkward.

“No problem.”

* * *

Frost isn’t used to dreaming.

But that’s what this has to be, right? A dream? She’s standing in the middle of Caity’s apartment, in the living room, but everything around her looks kind of like it’s in a haze.

Except for Caity, standing right in front of her.

That’s new.

She’s never actually seen Caity before, for all the time they’ve spent together. She’s seen her in pictures, and occasionally in the mirror just as she takes over, but never like this. Real and solid, and standing right in front of her looking every bit as weirded out by this as she feels.

“So how’d you pull this off?” She asks, folding her arms across herself.

“Cisco.” Caity answers, mimicking her posture.

She hums; she doesn’t need any explanation further than that. One of his inventions no doubt.

“How’d he take it?”

Caity shrugs, “Fine.” She says, though she doesn’t sound totally convinced.

She isn’t convinced either.

She doesn’t know Cisco nearly as well as Caity does, but she knows how he looks at her better half, not to mention how he looks at her in a very different manner, and there is no way he could be “fine” with this whole situation of Caity being pregnant through no actions of her own.

Hell, _she _isn’t fine with it.

She’s pretty sure Caity isn’t “fine” with it either, which is likely the reason she went through all the trouble to do this.

“So…” She drawls, picking at her nails. “What’s new?”

That does it.

They may be in a dream, but she can still feel Caity’s anger bubbling up in her. She wants to feel guilty about it, honest, but at the same time it’s the closest thing she’s had to normal all day.

She wonders if Caity can sense that, because her hard glare does soften, but at the same time she’s never known her to be quite as in-tuned with her other half’s emotions. Caity’s always been more of an unwitting participant of their relationship. She lives her life, and conks out whenever Frost brings herself to the surface. Frost has always left on her own, or been forced out by either a machine or DeVoe, but Caity’s never brought herself up.

“Frost we have to talk about this.”

“So talk.” She challenges, “What do you want to do?”

Caity gapes a minute, and she waits patiently.

“Well… For starters, I want to find out which one of us the baby belongs to.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, her nose scrunched. “We share a body, wouldn’t it belong to both of us?”

“Not necessarily.” Caity says, “You were created through dad’s experimental gene therapy. It’s possible for your genetic make-up to be different than mine, even if only a little.”

Oh, great.

So she might have fucked up even more than she thought and stuck Caity with an ice baby. Perfect.

“Ok.” She says, trying to sound nonchalant. “Does that matter?”

“What do you mean?” Caity asks, her eyes a little wide. “Why wouldn’t it matter?”

She shrugs, why would it?

“We have to come to one decision, don’t we?” She asks, “Get rid of it or keep it. Either way we both deal with the consequences.”

Caity pauses for a second, thinking.

“I’ll do whatever you want to do, Caity.” She says, flopping down onto the couch, shooting for an air of indifference to the situation. “But keep in mind that if you decide to keep it, you’re going to have to be the one to raise it.”

Caity scoffs, a look of disgust on her face.

“So that’s it then?” She asks, “It’s up to me? You don’t even care?”

That stings, just a little bit, but she starts picking at her nails again and shrugs.

“Look,” she says after a minute, finally bringing her gaze up to meet Caity’s. “I am sorry I got us – you - into this mess. But at the end of the day, we can’t separate, so you’re going to be the one dealing with it more than I am. So whatever you decide, I’ll go along with.”

Caity’s quiet, so is she. It gets to the point where she almost thinks they’re done here, before Caity speaks up again.

“What if it’s yours?”

She frowns, “Doesn’t change anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a little short, which I apologize for, but the others should all be longer!


	4. The Start of Everything

When Caitlin opens her eyes it’s slow, and there is already a frown set on her face. She supposes talking with Frost had gone about as well as she could’ve expected. Maybe she’ll talk to Ralph later, see if Frost told him anything yesterday. For now she gets up, and then promptly throws up, and gets ready for the day.

Her mind is barely any more at ease today than it was yesterday; if anything it’s worse. She keeps thinking about her conversation with Frost, and no matter how many times her other half insisted she’s indifferent to the situation she still finished off with mentioning that they can’t separate.

She’s never even thought of separating.

If they could, just theoretically, would Frost be singing a different tune? She would have to. It would be her baby and her pregnancy alone, which makes Caitlin wonder if she really does have a preference she isn’t sharing.

She files that away into the back of her mind, and suddenly she has that much more motivation to get through her father’s notes. If she can determine a genetic difference, she can determine how to broach the subject with Frost next time.

After spending the entire morning going through the notes, and calling Frost forward so that she can take a DNA sample, she determines that there is, in fact, a small genetic difference between them.

Tiny, barely a fraction of a percent, but it’s there.

“Baby only belongs to one of us.” She says quietly, after taking a minute to process the information herself. “I can probably test it in a few weeks, but it would be safer to wait until after the birth.”

There’s silence in her head at first, for so long in fact she’s starting to wonder if Frost is even awake.

_“Either way it’s past the point of no return.” _She can almost hear the grimace in the words, _“Are you sure you want to do this?”_

She… Yes, actually. It isn’t ideal, in any manner of speaking, but she’s always wanted children. If the baby turns out to belong to Frost, though, then that would complicate things. She knows herself, she knows she’ll still love it, but…

“Do you?”

_“I told you it-”_

“It does matter.” She snaps, “You’re right, we can’t separate. So you need to understand that I can’t spend the rest of my life loving your kid with you in the back of my mind resenting us both.”

Again, no answer.

Maybe she said too much to be heard without the cerebral inhibitor. That or she’s just being ignored; both are equally likely in this situation.

_“I’ll let you know tonight.”_

She nods, even if Frost can’t see it.

“I’ll do the same.”

She doesn’t get a reply to that, not that she was expecting one. In fact she’s gotten further than she thought she would, so she supposes that’s a victory.

She sits back in her chair and thinks. The idea to go and talk with Ralph comes back to her mind; maybe he’ll be able to give her some better insight as to where Frost’s head is. After all, she sought him out, and for Frost she can’t imagine that was a small feat.

With her mind made up she puts her dad’s notes back in their designated folder and heads out, telling Barry as she passes him on her way that she’ll be back later.

“Where you going?” He asks, and she turns back in the doorway of the cortex.

“Ralph’s P.I. office.” She answers casually, “He’s helping me with a thing.”

She doesn’t stick around long enough for him to ask any more questions, never mind to know whether or not he buys the excuse.

Ralph’s office isn’t too far from S.T.A.R. Labs. It’s enough that she has time to think on the drive over about what she wants to say, or if she should turn back and not say anything at all. That’s probably what she should do, actually, but she keeps driving.

Ralph’s door is closed when she gets there, but it doesn’t sound like there’s anyone in there with him, so she knocks lightly before turning the handle and finding it unlocked.

“Ralph?” She asks, poking her head in, and at the sight before her she almost walks right back out.

Ralph is sitting at his desk, starring at her, with his hand hovering over the pointed top of a house of cards.

“Caitlin!” He exclaims, clearly surprised to see her, and his sudden shout is enough topple his little project and leave it nothing more than a mess half on his desk and half on the floor. “What are you… What are ya doing here?”

He’s ignoring the fallen cards, she will to.

She closes the door behind her as she steps in. “I came to talk to you about Frost.”

“About Frost?” He asks, panic flashing quick through his eyes and his shoulders tensing.

“Ralph, I know she told you about the baby.”

“Oh thank God.” He sighs in relief, “I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to know. I mean, obviously for her I was because she told me, but I didn’t know about you; if you wanted me to know.”

She lets him babble on while she takes a seat in what she assumes is the client’s chair on the other side of his desk.

“So?” He asks, “What is that you want to talk about?”

“Well, Frost and I are trying to figure out what we want to do about… this whole thing, and she’s just shutting down.”

“Shutting down?” He asks, eyebrow raised with concern and hands folded on the card-covered surface of his desk.

“Mmhmm.” She hums, “She keeps saying she doesn’t care one way or the other, even if it is hers, and she’ll go along with whatever I want. But… it’s a baby Ralph, that isn’t something people are just not opinionated on. Especially not someone who has an opinion about everything.”

She adds that last part as more of a grumble as she leans back in the chair, folding her arms and over her chest and trying not to let the soreness that brings about show.

Ralph nods along, his face one of hard consideration.

“She didn’t seem too sure about what she wanted when she talked to me.” He admits, “Actually, she said exactly that.”

Caitlin nods; she had been expecting that.

“I told her to talk to the dad.” He goes on saying, his voice something close to apologetic. “She sounded like she might, or at least that she agreed it might help, but she wanted to talk to you first.”

Caitlin nods again, and for a beat the office is silent.

“She also said she wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to keep it.”

That… Isn’t really news.

It doesn’t really surprise her anymore when she learns that Frost knows things she feels, even though she can’t feel Frost in that way. She supposes it’s something to do with being the secondary personality; there was a point in which she could only be summoned by strong emotions, so it makes sense that she feels things Caitlin does without that connection running both ways. Frost can feel more than her emotions; she can feel the thoughts tied to them as well. The idle desire she’s always had for children, the fear but also the excitement that this has brought forth. It’s a jumble of emotions, none of them 100%, but…

“I think I do.” She says, and the words feel like a weight lifted off of her chest, even as Ralph’s eyes grow and even dart down momentarily to her still flat stomach.

“But only if Frost does too.” She adds on, “I told her, I can’t keep it and live with myself if she doesn’t want it. I can’t have her a part of me and hating the baby, especially not if it’s hers.”

“I don’t think she would hate it.” Ralph cuts in, an almost-smile of amusement on his face, the kind that says she’s jumping to a worst-case scenario that will never manifest.

She hopes that’s true.

“Honestly Caitlin, I think Frost is scared.”

She feels herself go ridged, the idea a shock to her system. She almost wants to laugh, just the idea of that is so far out of left field.

“Scared?” She asks, disbelieving. “Ralph, this is Frost we’re talking about. She doesn’t do scared.”

“Everyone does scared.” Ralph says with a snort, “Even ice queens who won’t admit it.”

She does consider that. Frost being scared sounds so absurd, but it isn’t impossible. Frost may be the result of a science experiment gone wrong, to put things bluntly, but she is still a person with her own set of emotions.

“Just let her know that whatever she really wants with this, you have her back.”

The words are oddly insightful for Ralph Dibny but… they make sense.

* * *

Of course, maybe not to Frost.

“Ralph thinks I’m scared?” She asks that night, her arms folded in disgust that matches the snarl on her face.

They’re in her apartment again; the edges of everything blurred a bit by the dream. Frost was already here and waiting when she arrived, lounging impatiently on the couch.

“That seems to be what he got from your little talk yesterday.” She says, folding her own arms.

“Well he’s wrong,” Frost snorts, but there’s something about the way her eyes move to the ground that has Caitlin not totally believing it.

“I’m in shock.” Her other half goes on to admit, solemnly. “But I’ve always known you’ve always wanted kids, I’m prepared for that.”

Caitlin feels like she can breathe a little easier upon hearing that.

“If it’s my kid, though.” Frost goes on, looking at her pointedly. “It’s going to have to think it’s yours.”

She knows the look on her face is far from one of understanding.

Frost has already made it clear that she’s going to be doing to majority of the work if they go through with this, and she’s ok with that. It’s the way things are for them. But something like that, to potentially be lying to her child…

“What if the baby’s like you?” She asks, and as she says it she realizes that question is the tip of a huge iceberg, no pun intended.

If the baby does belong to Frost, the chances of if being a meta are close to 100%, though considering how Frost came about she might have to check that math. In any case, the baby being a meta could cause complications with the pregnancy.

“You wouldn’t want to tell them?” She asks, pushing down the rising brigade of questions and focusing for now on the matter at hand.

Frost, to her credit, purses her lips with consideration.

“No,” she eventually says, shaking her head. “I just come out to fight, you’re going to be the one dealing with bad dreams, changing diapers, and shit like that.”

With that she gets up from the couch and meets Caitlin’s eyes, her gaze firm but also strangely soft; she may not be able to see Frost in the real world like this, but she doubts that’s an expression she wears often.

“You want this kid?” Frost asks, not that she waits for an answer. “I’ll get on board. I’ll do whatever you want in terms of Mick and telling the others, I can handle it or you can. Whatever. But the kid’s gotta call you mom no matter what, even if they’re mine.” She lays out the terms, and Caitlin is almost ready to argue her again, but then she comes out with one final afterthought.

“I’m not around enough.”

That hurts. Caitlin wants to tell her it doesn’t have to be that way. If that’s her reason for indifference in all this, then she wants to tell her it’s needless.

But she can’t.

They can’t separate from each other, and one of them will always, inevitably, be on the outside more than the other, and frankly she doesn’t do well when that one isn’t her.

“Ok.” She agrees, only a little defeated, or at least only showing a little of it. “We can talk more about logistics as things come up, but that sounds like a plan.”

* * *

It does sound like a plan, and she does want this baby even if it is really Frost’s, but it only takes a few days before the guilt of what she’s agreed to starts to eat away at her; to give up so easily on Frost having the option to be “mom”.

She wonders if Frost knows how she feels. She imagines she does, but she hasn’t said anything and whenever Caitlin wears the cerebral inhibitor to sleep her other half shows up but isn’t interested in discussing the baby, and Caitlin doesn’t want to bring up it or what she’s feeling in regards to their arrangement, so eventually their late night meet-ups cease to exist.

Even after that, however, Frost’s words continue ringing in her head: _“We can’t separate.”_

But, the more the days drag on, the more she wonders; do they know that?

She doesn’t dare bring it up to Frost, not until she has a conclusive answer, but she starts looking into the possibility. She looks at the cure, in hopes of maybe finding some alteration that could be made to not get rid of Frost, but to allow the two of them to separate into two people. That idea is nerve-wracking to say the least, not to mention likely impossible. She isn’t sure she wants to live without Frost as a part of her, but if it can be done then she owes it to Frost to give her that choice, especially now.

Speaking of “now”, she finds an OBG-YN who is willing to accept patients with meta risks and starts seeing her. She tells Barry, Iris, Cecil, and Joe about the baby, but she leaves out the mentioning that it could possibly belong to Frost and not her; that’s an explanation she can go through later if necessary.

She does tell them, however, because they ask, that the father is someone Frost hooked-up with, completely consensual on her part. It’s only a few hours after that when she feels Frost coming on and she goes under, and Frost must have gone into the time vault and used Gideon, because when Caitlin wakes up she’s sitting at her desk with a sticky-note just below her keyboard:

_Jitters, next Friday, 2:30. I’ll go, he’ll take it better._

Next Friday. She’ll be just over 12 weeks by then, past the first trimester.

All things considered, the first trimester hasn’t been _that _bad so far. She’s been throwing up every day, multiple times a day, but thus far each instance has kind of been a one-and-done kind of thing. She hasn’t spent hours on end lying on the bathroom floor like she’s heard of some women doing. She’ll throw up, maybe sit with a cold cloth on her head for a few minutes, but then the feeling usually passes and she can get on with her day until another random strike.

She’s tired, but one cup of coffee a day is perfectly safe for the baby and so that pretty much takes care of the fatigue. The thing that’s been the most irritating for her has been the tenderness in her breasts, but she wears her most comfortable bra and does her best to ignore it. It’s all that can be done for that.

Going to bed every night she always sneaks a look at the cerebral inhibitor, and tonight is no exception. She still hasn’t found anything to even suggest that she and Frost could potentially separate, and without that she doesn’t exactly have any reason she needs to call Frost into a dream for. So, just like every night, the little device stays where it’s found a home on the edge of her nightstand.

But this time, when it’s still dark outside and the sound of late night rain is still pattering down on the sidewalk, Caitlin is still asleep as usual.

But Frost isn’t.


	5. What Lies Beneath

She’s breathing like she’s scared, heavy and quiet, but looking around the room Frost doesn’t see any cause for alarm. Everything is still and calm. There doesn’t appear to be any danger present at all, but she has to be awake for a reason, right?

She gets up, slowly, but there are still no signs of danger even as she swings her legs over the mattress and touches her toes to the soft carpet. She pads over and closes the window Caity likes to keep open for air, even in the rain, and then tiptoes out into the hall.

She’s about halfway through the apartment when she starts to truly believe that everything is fine. She still doesn’t understand _why _she’s awake and on the surface at… she looks at the clock, 3:36 in the morning. Caity’s never gone under from a bad dream before, and if that’s what happened then what is she supposed to do about it?

She groans and decides to get a drink of water, and when she returns to the bedroom and finds Caity’s usual cup is still half full she shrugs and reasons that if Caity minded her using a cup, she’s would’ve let her stay asleep.

She drains her glass and then she crawls back under the covers and tries to calm her mind into sleeping.

Everything is fine.

It’s just a fluke. She just… woke up for no reason. That’s a thing that happens to normal people. Yeah, she’s ok. Caity’s ok. Everything is ok.

She manages to believe that in the moment, enough to get to sleep, yet she still is the one opening her eyes with the violent churning of her stomach in the morning.

She doesn’t have time to wonder about it. She’s already groaning and rolling onto her back, and then picking up the pace when her stomach protests to the movement. She barely makes it to the bathroom, literally falling to her knees and all but throwing her head into the toilet as last night’s dinner comes surging back up.

“Ugh…” She moans, and then more comes up. She coughs through the end of the vomit, the bile leaving a sour taste in her mouth as she straightens up just enough to rest her elbows on the toilet seat and place her sweaty face into her clammy hands.

“Caity…” She groans, “What…?”

She can’t say any more, she’s going to be sick again if she does. As it is she swallows down more bile, it settling back where it belongs rather unpleasantly. Probably won’t last.

_“No idea.” _She hears Caity’s voice faint in the back of her mind; she never has been good at communicating while under.

Nevertheless, the presence of her consciousness starts to grow greater, taking over like a warm blanket, slowly but all in a matter of seconds, and Frost feels herself slipping back into the idle spaces of her mind.

* * *

When Caitlin opens her eyes she’s holding her breath, or Frost had been, and she lets it out more as a gasp. She hadn’t meant to go under. But she had felt the confusion as she came back; Frost hadn’t meant to take over.

That’s new, and potentially a huge problem. But, maybe it was just a one-time thing. People do strange things in their sleep, and she and Frost have never been on as comfortable of terms as they are now. Maybe this is just something they do in their sleep now.

She files it away as something to keep an eye on, and then flushes the toilet and sets about her morning. She gets dressed, makes breakfast, and by the time she’s out the door and heading to her car the incident is almost completely out of her mind.

Almost.

It’s still lingering, later, when she’s looking over some old case files from CCPD that may have a connection to their latest meta problem, and she feels a tiny, pulling ache in her stomach. Absentmindedly, her brain tells her it feels like a period cramp, but _that _is certainly not a possibility, and she chalks it up to being hungry. She feels it a little more, enough to remember something she read once about implantation cramps or something like that; something that happens as the uterus starts to expand more with the growing baby inside.

It’s less than an hour later that Frost takes over again.

She closes her eyes, by this point it’s second nature to slip under and let Frost out, but the thing is that every time they switch there is a moment in which it feels like they’re passing each other. Whatever Frost is feeling, for a split second, Caitlin feels it as though it were her own emotion. Usually it’s anger, occasionally it’s this snarky confidence, but this time it’s _panic._

She now squeezes her eyes and inhales deep, her fists curling into tight balls that she presses hard against the smooth surface of the desk.

“Don’t change.” She whispers to herself, her old mantra from when she still feared Frost. “Don’t change.”

She feels more than her own will trying to quash her other half down, she feels Frost trying to do it herself. But that presence is growing stronger, meaning they’re losing this battle.

“Frost, listen to me.” She says, and she can feel her skin growing colder as her temperature drops with Frost’s presence. “Go find Cisco. Tell him what’s happening.”

_“How’s he supposed to help?”_

Even if she had an answer to that, Caitlin doesn’t have a chance to give it.

* * *

For a long time, Frost just stares at the papers before her.

Old newspaper articles, mug shots, other assorted charts and records. They all have to do with Team Flash’s latest bad guy of the week. But she can’t find any of it to be important.

When she finally stands up it’s on trembling legs, and her hands slowly uncurl to rest heavily on the desk’s surface as she leans over it. She’s gasping for breath, like last night but different, more heavily. She feels like she’s going to be sick again, and she looks around for a trash can but everything is blurry. Her mouth opens almost against her will, her body rocking forward and a gag coming from somewhere at the base of her throat.

No.

No, not yet. She needs a trashcan, or the strength to get to a bathroom.

A bathroom, she can find her way to a bathroom.

She pushes herself off the desk and takes a step, and then another, and…. and… and…

And she wakes up to the world a blur that slowly comes into focus around her, the first part of that being Iris looming over her.

“Frost? Frost are you ok?”

She squeezes her eyes, trying to shield out the light.

“I’m fine.” She insists, though her words sound like a slur of nonsense even to her ears.

It’s about then that she registers that she’s on the ground, and so she sits up, even with Iris putting a hand to her shoulder and looking at her with obvious worry.

“What happened?” She asks, “I came in and you were on the ground.”

The world is starting to come into focus around her, and so she takes a look. She’s just past the doorway of Caity’s medical office and in the cortex, farther than she remembers getting before everything went dark. Except, normally when things go dark she goes under and Caity comes out. But this time it doesn’t feel like that’s what happened.

“Frost?” Iris brings her back from her thoughts and to her still worried expression. “Is Caitlin ok?”

She opens her mouth to answer yes, because she would know if Caitlin weren’t ok, but… does she?

This hasn’t happened before. She’s never just come out against her will, nearly unable to stop it. It had felt familiar, like back when Caity wouldn’t summon her purposely and it was just the emotions letting her out. But there was no fear this time, no anger, she just started coming forward.

“I’m not sure.” She answers, and when she looks to Iris she is sure her own expression is every bit as worried as the other woman’s.

“I need to talk to Cisco.” She says, the absolute only thing in her mind that she is sure of right now. “Caity said he could help.”

Iris’s face holds questions, lots of questions, but she doesn’t ask any of them. Instead she gives her arm a gentle pull and she starts to slowly get up.

“Of course.” Iris says, “Here, let’s get you onto the bed. You wait here and take it easy, I’ll go get Cisco.”

She looks behind her, at the medical cot, and then back to Iris who is now more bent than crouched, and yet she’s still on the ground.

“I can-”

“Frost, please.” Iris voice is nearly a beg, and from what she’s understood thus far, it isn’t often that Iris resorts to begging. “Neither of us knows what happened, just sit and wait. Please, at the very least to ease my mind.”

She knows what Iris is doing, for the record; making it sound like sitting and not walking around is a favor to her rather than to herself. But she nods anyway. Maybe she’s a little more spooked by this whole thing than she would like to admit, whatever.

Her legs are trembling even more now than they were before, so much so that she finds herself griping tight to Iris’s arm as the other woman helps her up and then onto the cot. The two of them exchange a worried look, but neither makes a comment, not beyond Iris asking if she’s all set and then promising to be back soon once she’s on the cot.

With Iris gone Frost tips her head back and breathes in deeply. The sick feeling from before has passed, thankfully, and she’s wringing her fingers together in her lap. The world is no longer spinning in her vision, another good thing, but she still has this cold and clammy feeling gnawing away at her.

“Caity.” She whispers, “What is happening?”

No answer, but she isn’t too worried. Again, talking while under isn’t really Caity’s thing.

Cisco pops into the doorway not too long later. She can see him jog through the cortex, and he’s so out of breath. He ran here. He doesn’t want her to know but she does. He ran to make sure Caity’s ok.

It makes her heart twist and fill with warmth all at once.

“Hey,” He says in a breathy greeting, “What’s going on?”

_“You tell me.” _She thinks to herself, but she doesn’t say it.

“I don’t know.” She says instead, “I was asleep, and the next thing I knew I was coming out like when it’s on instinct. Only neither me or Caity knows where the instinct came from, she was fine.”

“Was?” He asks; his voice pitched high with worry.

“Is.” She corrects, “As far as we both know.”

He doesn’t look assured by that, neither does Iris behind him. She doesn’t blame them; she isn’t assured by it either.

She ends up telling them about last night, waking up in the middle of the night for no reason, and then what happened just now once she took over. She doesn’t remember anything Caity was feeling when it happened, a slight twinge of something achy, but she’s normally a lot more in-tune to where her healing abilities are being used.

“Well it sounds to me like you had a panic attack.” Iris says after they’ve gone through everything. “I’ve had a few over the years, between Savitar and Cicada, and a few things in-between. I usually cry or throw up, but I’m betting if I tried to stop myself from doing that, my body’s next response to the anxiety would be to shut down, which must have happened to you.”

Frost hopes, in fact she _prays _that the fear that Iris might be right doesn’t come through on her face, and instead it’s just the look of doubt that she’s going for.

Besides, one thing there doesn’t make sense.

“Why would Caity have had a panic attack?” She asks, “She was just working on your bad guy of the week, she does that all the time.”

Iris shrugs, “What about you?” She asks; her eyes narrowed with a squirming discomfort that is visible in her whole body. “Is there any reason you might have had a panic attack?”

“No.” She answers, trying to keep her patience. “Even if I did, Caity and I don’t exactly work like that. Her stress brings me out, not my own.”

“Maybe…” Cisco trails off, “But, and I am far from being an expert on pregnancy, but I do know that stress isn’t good for a baby. So, maybe that canceled that part of your powers out?”

That’s… a thought.

She hadn’t considered the baby could have something to do with any of this, but even if Cisco is right she doesn’t think she’s been _that _worried about this whole thing; Caity’s the one dealing with most of it.

“Even if it isn’t the cause,” Iris says, breaking the heavy tension of the room. “Cisco is right that stress isn’t good for an unborn baby and panic attack or not this whole thing has caused a lot of stress. Why don’t we give you both a check-up, make sure everything’s alright?”

“Except Caitlin’s our resident doctor.” Cisco deadpans straight away, to which Iris gives him a hard look, and suddenly Frost feels like an outsider.

Not a new feeling, but still.

“You know how to take a temperature and run blood work.” Iris says, her voice every bit as unwilling to argue as her face. “I’ll call Cecile, maybe she picked up some things from her appointments with Jenna. Between the four of us and the instructions, we can probably figure out the ultrasound machine.”

She turns to leave with that, and Cisco bows his head in defeat.

“I can get Caitlin.” Frost offers; her voice an awkward whisper. Still, Iris turns back around at the words, and Cisco looks between them both.

“No.” It’s Iris, who eventually answers. “You’re the one who fainted, lets check on you first, and if we can’t find anything wrong we’ll check Caitlin.”

She really hates that that makes sense.

She’s left alone with Cisco, while he silently moves about the office gathering various tools and pieces of equipment. He knows where everything is, as well as how to use most of it. Sometimes she wonders if it’s all subconscious, or if he has deliberately watched and taken notes while Caity is patching people up so that he knows, in case it’s ever her.

He takes her temperature and it comes out at her normal 78.9. He checks her eyes and ears, mostly to buy time she thinks, and her reflexes too while he’s at it. He draws blood and puts it in the centrifuge, though she wonders if he knows what to even begin looking for. He’s just finishing that when Iris returns with Cecile, who has a warm smile on her face as she asks to know what’s happening. Iris, of course, has already gotten her mostly up to speed and all they need to explain to her is where they are now.

Which is dragging out the ultrasound machine.

Figuring out how to work it is mostly Cisco and Iris swatting each other’s hands away from various buttons, and Frost decides she’s going to stay out of it. Cecile seems to have come to a similar decision, and is sitting in the rolling chair next to the cot and laughing at the sight.

“Don’t worry.” She giggles, “They’ll get there.”

She hopes so.

They do, eventually, after more time than it should take two adults, but they get there. Cisco runs the machine, avoiding eye contact with her as much as he can. That’s fine by her; she knows it isn’t anything personal. He just would rather it be Caity right now.

She keeps her eyes up as he starts moving the little wand across her stomach, and in doing that she notices a little frown on Iris’s face that she’s fairly certain isn’t directed at the screen, but she ignores it. She looks at Cecile instead, who so far has been nothing but smiles and warm eyes.

So far.

Now her eyebrows are creased, and unlike Iris her frown most definitely is directed at the screen.

“Um…” The older woman stutters, far sooner than Frost had been expecting her to be able to pick something out. “The heartbeat’s a little low.”

“What?” She snaps before she can stop herself, and her head whips to the side to look at the screen.

Her heart feels heavy in her chest as she takes in the image of tiny grey blobs that vaguely make up the shape of a baby. One blob for the head, a bigger one for the body, and four little stick looking things for arms and legs. It’s perfect. This tiny, itty-bitty thing, but her attention also goes to the numbers in the corners of the screen.

“Not much.” Cecile says quickly, “Only a little, I think. I’m not a doctor but I remember Jenna’s was faster than this at eleven weeks, it was our first appointment so I wrote everything down and looked at it nonstop.”

“And you’re sure this like, concernedly slower?” Iris asks, and Cecile, much to Frost’s dismay, nods.

“There was a chart in the office for size and heart rate, and things like that. This is low for eleven weeks, but I’m not sure if we should worry.”

She says she isn’t sure if they should worry, and when she looks at the screen Frost catches the number change. 111 to 113. Still low, probably, she doubts more two beats is much, so no matter what Cecile says, she’s worried.

Cisco is with her, apparently, because he suggests they call Caitlin’s ob-gyn. That sounds like a good idea, but for that it should probably be Caity who goes, and so she goes under.

She isn’t expecting to be called back up only ten minutes later.


	6. Fire and Ice

Cisco watches, his breath held like every other time, as Frost’s white hair melts away and turns to Caitlin’s light brown. He watches the color flush her face, and when her eyes blink open they’re the light brown that has been a comfort to him so many times over the years.

But right now those eyes are far from showing comfort.

She looks around the room almost right away, trying to figure out what’s going on and probably why she is laying on the cot with three of them standing around her, not to mention him by their rarely used ultrasound machine.

“I found Frost on the ground.” Iris soon supplies, “She said you guys didn’t know why she was taking over, so we decided to check on both her and the baby.”

“And… when you say she was on the ground?” Caitlin asks, clearly worried.

“She had fainted.” Iris confirms. “We think she had a panic attack.”

Caitlin nods at that, and then, of course, she turns her fearful expression onto him.

“What about the baby?”

He tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but he’s pretty sure that’s impossible and he is just going to have to talk through it.

“Um… We’re going to call your doctor.” He says, his heart aching when she widens her eyes and suddenly he can’t explain everything fast enough.

“It’s probably nothing.” He rushes to say, “It’s just that the heart rate is a little low and so we’re going to call.”

Caitlin, well, she doesn’t look reassured by that in any way, but she nods along and tries to process it.

He doubts she has processed it when she pulls out her phone after only a minute, and she taps in the doctor’s number. She starts explaining what’s happened soon as the doctor has picked up, and she mentions something about having felt some little cramps earlier, and that’s about when he zones out.

His mind reels back through a million different things. Back to when she nearly died almost three years ago, to Julian ripping away the necklace that kept Frost at bay so her healing factor could work it’s magic. He sees the memories almost the way he would see vibes – too real and too vivid - and he sees himself only a half hour ago taking Frost’s temperature. It was normal, for her, 78.9. That’s cold, very cold, for a normal person.

But not for someone like Frost.

Then, finally, his mind reaches back to something he’s seen so many times he could probably recite it from memory; an episode of The Big Bang Theory. In particular, a scene he was indifferent to, up until now, right after Bernadette told the other girls she was pregnant for the first time and they’re trying to distract her from the fear of it all.

_“Doctor said I can’t go in the hot tub.”_

“Cisco?”

Caitlin snaps him from his thoughts and back to the present. As he starts seeing the room before him again he realizes that Iris and Cecile have left and Caitlin is now off the phone, staring at him with a furrowed brow.

“You’re a hot tub.” He splutters out, and at that she raises one of those very confused brows.

“Excuse me?”

He licks his lips, the panic rising up inside him as all of the pieces click and oh how he hopes he’s wrong.

“Remember when you told me that the baby only belongs to either you or Frost, but not both?”

“Yes…”

“Ok, so what if the baby belongs to Frost?” He suggests, “Her internal body temperature is nearly twenty degrees lower than yours, so if the baby has her genetics then-”

“Then it would need a cold environment.” She finishes for him, sitting straight up in the cot with a panic that matches his overtaking her. “She came out because the baby can’t survive in me.”

Her eyes are still wide, and when they meet his he is suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of dread.

“I have to go back under.”

He wants to protests that, greatly. But he can tell her mind is made up, and really, what could he say anyway? If she doesn’t bring Frost back then the baby won’t survive, and the thought of that just makes him feel sick.

“For how long?” He asks, though he already knows the answer. Nine months, unless the doctor is able to tell them they’re wrong about this.

“I’m not sure.” She says, though he thinks she’s every bit as sure as he is. “Take Frost to the appointment, get the doctor’s opinion. If we’re right, then Frost and I will talk and figure it out.”

“Caitlin…”

But she’s already gone.

* * *

Frost feels… numb.

Cisco explains everything to her, and then insists on accompanying her to the doctor’s appointment. She wants to tell him no and take herself, she almost does, but eventually she relents and gets into the passenger side of his car.

They don’t talk throughout the ride, and the car is silenced after nothing on either his playlists or the radio proves appropriate for the moment. It’s all either too upbeat or far too emotional, nothing mindless.

And boy, could she do with some mindlessness right now.

They both know the reality they’re facing if this theory turns out to be fact, and she has a sickening feeling that it will.

Oh god, that’s not solely from the thoughts of all this.

She presses her head back into the seat, closing her eyes and trying to will the feeling away but… no, it’s getting worse.

“Can you pull over?” She manages to ask, but just the act of opening her mouth turns out to be enough to do her in and before she knows it she’s hunched forward and a chunky brown mess of Caity’s morning cereal is all over her lap.

“Oh shit.” She hears Cisco curse under his breath, just before another wave comes up and out. “Ok, uh, just hang on. We’ll uh, we’ll make a detour to Caitlin’s apartment and pick up some clothes.”

“We don’t have time.” She groans, closing her eyes and very much trying not to look at the puddle of disgustingness in her lap.

“Ok well you can’t go into the doctor’s with half-digested raisin bran all over you.”

“Why not? It’s a doctor’s office.” She snaps, jokingly, eyes still closed and head tilted up.

Even so, she can feel Cisco rolling his eyes.

“There’s some napkins in the glove compartment. Use those to clean off your lap and when we get there I’ll check the trunk, see if I have an old shirt or something back there.”

Ok, that sounds like a plan.

Eventually she manages to open her eyes and look again, she gags but quashes it back down and through a shuddering breath she opens up the glove compartment to find exactly two crumpled and stained napkins.

She grimaces, this is never going to work, but at least she finds a crumpled to-go bag half under the seat to put the soiled napkins in once she’s done with them.

“Sorry about your seat.” She mutters, trying to push as much of the goop into the bag as she can manage.

“Don’t worry about it.” Cisco says, “Been meaning to get the inside cleaned anyway.”

Somehow, she doubts that.

She ends up letting him stop at a gas station so they can get a roll of paper towels. It’s easier to clean herself off standing up in the parking lot anyway, and if the little kid who sucks at being discrete about looking at her has anything to say about it, well she asks her mom and not her, so that’s a win.

“Ok,” Cisco says, coming around from the trunk with a S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt balled up in his hands. “Here, you can wear this.”

She nods and takes the garment, then slips back into the car and unbuttons Caity’s blouse, slips out of it and stuffs it in the to-go bag, and then pulls the sweatshirt over her head.

“You know,” Cisco says when he gets back in the driver’s seat, her just getting her arms through the sleeves. “You could’ve gone in the bathroom to do that.”

Hm, she could’ve.

“Just drive.”

He does, and through some small chance of fate having mercy, they make it to the doctor’s office without her getting sick again. Even more merciful, she doesn’t have to fill anything out when she gets there; Caity took care of all that last time. Yes, she has to impersonate Caity to get in, and the receptionist looks pretty skeptical, but tells her to have a seat.

Whatever, she isn’t worried about that. This doctor deals with metas, meaning she’s up to speed on her and Caity’s whole dynamic.

Cisco takes a seat next to her with his hands folded together in front of him, not giving her more than one sidelong glance, and it feels like a rock settles in her chest when he does.

She wants to tell him everything will be fine for him. Caity will be back out here soon enough, one way or another. Either everything is fine with Caity carrying the baby and this is just some fluke thing, or they’re right and she’s really the only one it can survive in. If that’s the case, well, this isn’t worth it.

“Caitlin?” She perks up, and sees a nurse standing in the doorway at the end of the room with a peppy smile.

She looks over to Cisco, though she isn’t sure why.

“Go.” He encourages, his face soft and yet guarded. “I’ll be right here.”

She presses her mouth in a firm line, trying not to wonder if he would’ve offered to go with Caity.

He probably would’ve.

She crosses the room on steadier legs than she would’ve imagined, which is really saying something after earlier. The nurse is nice enough and doesn’t seem off-put by her appearance, which is a plus. She only seems tripped up after they get back to the exam room and start getting the basics out of the way, which of course means she takes her temperature. The nurse pales slightly but jots it down on her clipboard, and not too long after that she excuses herself and leaves Frost alone to change into the hospital gown.

Undressing this time feels like a much bigger deal than it did in the car. She isn’t rushing, or in a cramped seat, and as a result she catches a glimpse of her bare stomach and the little pouch of her belly. She doesn’t think she’s showing, Caity has always been skinny but her belly has never been flat, at least not flat enough that she thinks she would notice the tiniest evidence of a baby bump.

Probably for the best anyway.

She ties up the gown and sits patiently on the exam table until the doctor knocks and then comes in, a bright smile that doesn’t even falter at the sight of her.

“Hello, you must be Frost?” She asks, and Frost nods, trying to come off with her usual air of confidence.

“Wonderful,” the doctor continues to gush. “I’m Dr. Jones. Caitlin mentioned you a bit at her first appointment, I wasn’t sure I would have the pleasure of meeting you. Now, what seems to be going on? Caitlin mentioned cramps on the phone?”

Right, cramps, Cisco had had to catch her up on that part.

“Yeah, um… I guess she was feeling these cramps and… I’m not sure what she told you about me. I usually only come out when something’s wrong with her, like if she’s hurt or in danger.”

“Yes.” Dr. Jones nods, “She said the two of you have figured out how to switch back and forth on command, but originally you were triggered by strong negative emotion such as anger or fear, or intense physical pain.”

She nods, and when she does Dr. Jones looks up from her clipboard with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m guessing you don’t usually come out for something as simple as cramps?”

She shakes her head, and suddenly she’s swallowing back the threat of tears.

“No,” she manages quietly, bringing her eyes up but fixing them on a point on the wall instead of either the doctor or her own fidgeting hands. “There’s a genetic difference between me and Caitlin. We share a body but, biologically, we aren’t the same person. So the baby only belongs to one of us, and my natural temperature is a lot lower than that of a normal person.”

She pauses to finally look at the doctor, to see if she’s lost her or not; she hasn’t.

“I took over both last night and today without meaning to, and I didn’t feel any cramps. We’re just curious, if the baby is mine, then… would it be like me?”

Dr. Jones, understandably, doesn’t answer straight away. Instead she looks down at her chart, like it might hold an answer, and then she sighs.

“Well, most of the information we have on meta pregnancies is still new, not to mention almost always circumstantial, but I would say it’s a strong possibility; especially given the nature of your abilities.”

She nods, she’d been afraid of that.

“Why don’t we get an ultrasound done?” Dr. Jones suggests, sympathy in her voice.

Frost agrees and follows instructions, and in no time at all she’s seeing the image of the baby inside her for the second time today.

She doesn’t look away this time, she’s too worried, but when she sees the number in the corner of the screen she gasps.

115.

“Hmm, the heart rate is a little low.” Dr. Jones murmurs through a frown.

“It’s higher than it was.” She supplies, and the look she gets is a rather bewildered one, but Dr. Jones accepts it and then turns back to the screen.

“Well… Other vital signs look all right. Not un-concerning but… Acceptable.”

She continues moving the wand around, and Frost keeps her eyes on the screen and her breath held. She switches between watching the numbers and watching the baby almost every other second.

“Do you see that, there?” Dr. Jones eventually asks, pointing to a small, hair-thin, line of black that seems to cut through the grey around the black blob the surrounds the baby.

It’s so tiny she has to squint to see it, and even then she isn’t sure she really does, but she nods anyway.

“That’s scar tissue, and it wasn’t there when I examined Caitlin last week.”

Oh, great.

“So, I’m going to say your theory is correct. It’s likely those cramps Caitlin was experiencing were the beginnings of a miscarriage, likely caused because her internal body temperature is too warm for the baby.”

It isn’t a surprise, but Frost still feels the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She won’t let them fall, not here at least. It’s just that thinking this and hearing it… turns out the latter is much more painful.

“But I’ve barely been out since, you know, the night this happened. It’s survived this long in Caitlin.”

Dr. Jones’ frown isn’t as confused as Frost would’ve hoped, but more sympathetic.

“In the first trimester the fetus can be very resilient, sometimes. Though it is possible that spending so long exposed to the high temperature may have caused some problems. But that’s something that will be easier to test further down the line.”

That sentence turns her stomach and chest both into knots.

“And what if there weren’t a further down the line?” She asks, steeling herself against Dr. Jones’ surprised expression.

“You… Caitlin said the two of you had decided to carry the baby?”

“Well things just changed.” She argues, “Kid’s not gonna last in Caity, and being stuck under for long periods of time sucks, so I can’t stay out here the whole time.”

There is a moment in which Dr. Jones just gapes at her, and on some level she’s grateful for it. It gives her something to challenge, a fight; motivation to not go into her feelings.

“Of course.” Dr. Jones eventually says, seemingly trying to recover from her initial reaction. “You’re at eleven weeks and three days, so if you are sure an abortion is what you want then I would get it done soon as possible; things can get messy in terms of paperwork and legalities once you’re into the second trimester.”

She nods along, holding the doctor’s gaze firm.

“I don’t have any open appointments in the next few days but I can write you a referral, and I suggest you bring someone with you, for support.”

She nods, though she can feel her face starting to grow paler than normal, and she hopes that isn’t noticeable. She still has enough sense to sit up take the referral slip, and she isn’t blind to Dr. Jones’ less than confidant expression.

The slip is more of a card, with cursive handwriting scribbled onto it. Its corners dig lightly into the palms of her hands and for a moment she let’s that feeling be all that exists in her world.

For a moment.

“If I can offer you some advice?” The doctor says over her shoulder as she starts to leave, and Frost looks up from the little business card clutched in her hand.

“Talk to Caitlin before you do anything.”

“Because this is her body too?” She snorts, although she is planning on running this by Caity.

Still, doc doesn’t need to know she’s so considerate.

“Because she cares about you.”


	7. I'm With You

She tells Cisco what the doctor said, about him being right, no more, no less. That’s not for his lack of asking, but she keeps her lips sealed. She should tell him her decision, she knows that, but she doesn’t. She’ll do it after she deals with Caity, because he will ask for Caity’s opinion.

She goes to sleep that night with the cerebral inhibitor on her forehead, and when she opens her eyes in the dream she’s in the familiar surroundings of the living room.

“What did she say?” Caity asks almost right away, and Frost shrugs.

“What we thought.” She says, nonchalant. “Kid’s gotta be mine, you run too hot to carry it.”

Caity frowns, but nods, and so she heaves a long sigh.

“Doesn’t matter anyway.” She says, “I’m gonna get rid of it.”

“What?” Caity sounds genuinely shocked by the decision; to which she raises an eyebrow.

“What?” She echoes, though her tone is far more confused than surprised. “It can’t survive in you, and I can’t stay out here-”

“Why not?”

She knows she’s gaping. Her words have died in her throat; any that made it further come out in a stuttered noise of nothingness.

“Be…cause,” she eventually splutters, “That would mean you would have to stay under for months.”

“And you think I won’t do that?”

“I…”

She does, actually. She can tell by the hard and challenging look she’s getting. She knows for certain that Caity would be more than willing to do that for this, for her, but she doesn’t want her to.

Not that that argument will hold.

“It’s not just that,” she says, “We talked about the after. At this point we know the kid is like me, meaning it’ll probably have powers. What if they get out of hand?”

Caity shrugs, because of course that isn’t a deal breaker. Something like that would never be a deal breaker.

“We can figure that out when we get to it.” She says, and then her face turns soft and, almost… guilty?

Frustrated, but definitely close to guilty.

“But, about me raising it. I will. I absolutely will. If you want me to, I do want kids. But… after what you said when we were first figuring this out, I kind of started looking into the possibility of us being able to separate.”

Oh, that.

“I know.”

“You DO?” Caity asks, to which she just gives a sarcastic smile.

“You couldn’t hide the cure from me, did you really think I wasn’t listening to you mumble over those notes?”

Caity’s face falls, and an embarrassed look of realization washes over it.

“You didn’t butt in?”

She shrugs.

“It’s impossible.”

“We’ve done the impossible before.”

True.

She considers that, she lips pursed with thought, but Caity speaks up again before the fear of the idea can properly settle in.

“Frost, I want you to have the option to be mom to your kid. If you don’t want that then that’s fine, but I want you to have the choice.”

She doesn’t say anything, and Caity just huffs.

“If you don’t want it, fine. But if you do, or even if you just think you might, don’t get rid of it. Stay on the surface for the rest of the week, show Cisco what I was working on. Actually, bring my notes with you when you go to tell Mick, maybe Ray or Gideon can help.”

She still doesn’t say anything. She stands there for a moment and considers the idea, which is insane all on it’s own because it is never going to work. There is no way, not even with future tech in play, to just split the two of them apart.

But, for a brief few seconds, she tries to disregard that.

What if there were? Just hypothetically, if it were possible, what might that be like?

“I’ll think about it.” She says, “But no promises.”

* * *

She does think about it. In fact, it’s probably all she thinks about.

She tries to imagine living apart from Caity and she can’t, so she then tries to picture herself raising a baby.

The image would be laughable were it not impending.

No aspect of it would be a good idea. For one thing she could never separate from Caity even if it were possible, because then if something happens to Caity she won’t survive it. She’ll probably get involved with taming that damn gorilla again or something stupid like that. Then there’s the fact that she would have absolutely zero idea as to what to do with a kid.

She can just picture herself groaning as it wakes up in the middle of the night crying, or burning the formula. Hell, she’d probably drop the kid the first time it dared to move while she held it.

It’s all really a terrible, horrible idea.

And yet as the week goes by, she manages to lose track of that referral slip.

She justifies it, tells herself that if Caity’s willing to deal with a kid who might be able freeze the bath water around them, then she’s not going to take it away. She doesn’t mention Caity’s ridiculous plan of separation to Cisco or anyone else, she doesn’t even look at the notes.

What she does tell the others is that she’s waiting the week to tell Mick, since it’s his kid too, which… ehh. That isn’t a total lie, but it isn’t totally the truth either. If she and Caity really wanted to get rid of the kid, she would’ve done it without so much as a word to him.

Still, the story keeps everyone’s suspicious glances to a minimum, and so it does its job.

When Friday rolls around she finds she’s dreading the meeting with Mick more than she thought she would. Her stomach is in knots, more so than usual, and she actually finds herself wishing she had asked him to come in the morning so at least she could get it over with. But no. Sara had said they could probably get to Central by the afternoon, and she had said “whatever, tell him to meet me at Jitters at 2:30.”

So here she is, watching the clock, with an iced latte colder than her skin clutched between her hands.

He’s late.

Like she hasn’t been on edge enough all day.

Her leg is bouncing up and down under the table at a speed that would make Barry green envy, and her teeth are dug deep into the blue flesh of her lips. She just wants to get this over with already.

Yet, when he finally does walk though the door, all she wants to do is disappear.

He sees her quick enough and comes over to join her, not seeming to take much notice to her unease.

“Thought we said no strings.” He grunts, though there isn’t much criticism in the words. In fact, she thinks it’s supposed to be a joke, but the knowledge of the very big string attached to them now kind of ruins the humor in it for her.

“Yeah well, we also said no condoms.”

That gets him to stop.

He stares at her, eyes wide, and she could swear she can see the gears in his head screech to a halt. She waits, momentarily distracted anyway by the lack of Caity’s voice in the back of her mind, nagging that she knew they didn’t use a condom.

She has to pull herself from those thoughts, and she does so by moving one of her hands to her lap and her fingers tread at the opening to her pocket. She has the last ultrasound tucked away there, folded and crinkled, but present. She had grabbed it out of Caity’s desk drawer at the last minute in case he’d need proof, and maybe he will, but she’ll make that call when he finally says something.

“I’m clean.” He eventually spits out, and she rolls her eyes and bites back a curse.

“We had that conversation.” She reminds him, “You’re clean, but you’re not sterile.”

She can see him swallow when she says that, and it’s quiet another minute.

“You messing with me?”

She snorts. “I wish.”

She pulls out the crumpled sonogram now, smooths it out as best she can and slides it across the table to him. His eyes are drawn to it immediately, but he doesn’t move to take it. He just stares at it, and all this waiting around for him to get this through his thick skull is staring to get annoying.

Besides, she does have other matters to get to here.

“You good there?” She asks, and he snaps his gaze up to her, and the look on his face is answer enough.

He isn’t.

“Look,” she says, trying to level with him. “I’m not telling you about this because I expect anything from you-”

“You keeping it?” He interrupts, and him saying anything at all is so unexpected at this point she just gawks at him at first, but he keeps his eyes firm on her.

“I uh… I haven’t figured that out.” She admits, her lips pressing tight together and her eyes glancing away for a moment.

“It’s like me.” She eventually blurts out, still avoiding his eyes. “Cold, and because of that Caity can’t carry it. She thinks maybe there’s a way we can separate, and she wanted me to ask your friends for their opinions on that. If it can’t be done then no, I’m not keeping it. I can’t ask Caity to stay under that long. If it can…”

She chews on her lip, and thinks about what she really wants to say here.

“We can talk about it.”

She doesn’t let herself think about what that conversation might be like. Instead she watches him, tries to at least determine if he might be hoping one way or the other.

But his face is blank, not to mention a little pale, and instead of saying anything he starts to stand up.

“You want to split from her?”

It’s a loaded question, and if things were normal her answer would be no. But things are not normal, not even their version of it.

“I want to know if it’s possible.” She answers carefully and he nods and turns to go, so she follows him.

* * *

Coming into today, Sara was curious.

When she received a message from S.T.A.R. Labs at the end of last week asking if there was any way her team had time to stop in Central sometime soon she asked if it was an emergency, because in all honesty they don’t have time. The answer she received was “not an emergency, but time sensitive.” She hadn’t known what to do with that, but there was a Time Bureau meeting today that Ava wanted her at, and apparently Team Flash only needed Mick, so she told them today.

She figured she would find out what it was all about eventually, but she hadn’t expected that to happen in the form of Mick coming back to the ship with Frost and the two of them explaining that he knocked her up the last time they were in town, and now she’s looking to be separated from Caitlin so she can carry the baby.

She really wishes she were more surprised than she is.

Throughout the entire explanation Frost is talking mostly to the floor, not that Sara blames her. She barely knows any of them, and here she is explaining all this and the factors behind a near miscarriage to her, Ray, and John. Mick isn’t helpful; he looks like he’s about ready to disappear standing up there next to Frost.

“What do you think?” Frost finally asks after everything’s been explain, and Sara looks at either side of her where Ray and John are standing taking all this in.

Ray doesn’t look hopeful at all.

“Separate two personalities?” John asks, much more confidence to his demeanor than Ray’s. “Piece of cake.”

“Really?” All four of them ask in unison, to which John appears surprised.

“Of course.” He says, “That’s a simple enough spell. Only problem is it’s not safe for pregnant women, so you’re going to have to wait until after the little one comes.”

“Why?” Frost asks, and John smirks the way he does before he explains something that he doesn’t really want to be explaining.

“Well, there’s you and Caitlin. But there’s only one of that.” He says, pointing down to her stomach. “I split the two of you, something’s gotta happen to it, and it’s out of my control.”

Frost and Mick are still looking at him curiously, and frankly Sara is too, but she isn’t one to question his magic.

“Things could turn out fine and the little freeloader could stay in you.” He continues, “Or it could stay in Caitlin, and from what you’ve told us, her body won’t handle that well. It could also split right in half, in which case you’re both quite literally dealing with a bloody mess.”

“Thank you, John.” Sara decides to cut in, since she seems to be the only one noticing Frost beginning to turn green, and Mick white. “I think they’ve got it.”

The silence of the office is awkwardly and heavy, so she decides to shoo Ray and John out and excuse herself with them. She’ll talk to Mick about all this and what it means for him later, right now he could use a minute or two alone with Frost.

* * *

When Constantine uses the word “simple” to describe the idea of separating her from Caity, Frost is shocked, but it’s only after he explains it’ll have to wait until after the baby is born that she realizes she’d been hopeful. Of course it isn’t simple. Why would it be simple?

Once Sara, Constantine, and Ray are gone and it’s just her and Mick she swallows and looks at him.

“I’m not keeping it.” She says, and a part of her wonders if it’s more for her own benefit than his that she starts with it.

He looks… almost like he wants to argue. Almost. But he doesn’t, he just nods, and she’s note sure if that’s a relief or a frustration.

She supposes it doesn’t matter.

“Can your med bay, um, do that?”

“Uh…”

“Yes.” The ship’s computer answers from above, giving her only a minor heart attack.

Ok, good. She looks to the door, but then back to Mick. She doesn’t want to have to ask him to go with her, but…  
“I don’t know where-”

“Right.” He says, suddenly getting his wits about him. He then awkwardly steps past her and starts leading the way, or she assumes that’s what he’s doing.

She follows him, quietly, down the halls of the ship. This will be good. She can get this taken care of now and then everything can go back to normal.

She tries to keep this thought in mind as she follows Mick down to the med bay, ignoring the feelings of her skin growing colder and her vision spinning, the walls all blurring together until…

Oh crap, not again.

* * *

She wakes this time not in the hallway, or with Iris shaking her, but to the sight of unfamiliar bright lights invading her vision and sending a panic through her system.

That is, until she remembers where she is.

She’s on The Waverider, right. It seems she made it to the med bay, or someone brought her unconscious body here at least, because she’s sat in an uncomfortable chair and there are all sorts of machines and monitors lying dormant around her.

She groans as she gets her bearings, looking around the room to see if she’s alone or-

She swears she stops breathing.

“Caity?” She asks, and her better half smirks, getting up from the stool she’s sat on in the corner. “How-?”

“You’re still under.” Caity explains, “Gideon used her dream monitoring systems to wake me up, she explained the whole thing about John only being able to separate us after the baby comes.”

Ok, sure, why not?

“Frost,” Caity says, “I don’t mind staying under until then. Maybe it’ll be good for me, I can get better at-”

“Caity, just stop.” She interrupts, “I don’t want to ask you to do that.”

“I’m offering.” Caity reminds her, and her tone is about every bit as fed up with this conversation as Frost feels herself.

“You know, Gideon also told me why you were going to the med bay, and that you gave yourself a panic attack.”

She scoffs, of course that’s the diagnosis.

“And how did Gideon manage to tell you all that?” She asks, and really, at this point, she shouldn’t be surprised that it’s Gideon’s voice that answers.

“Gideon sees dreams, as well as can enter them.” The AI so helpfully reminds her, “As well as brought the two of you to the space of your shared consciousness, don’t underestimate her.”

Frost groans, and she can feel Caity looking on with an amused grin.

“Frost.” She finally says, her voice so soft and caring and so much what Frost knows her own can’t be. “You’ve had time, you’ve had chances, but you want this baby?”

“It doesn’t-”

“It does.” Caity insists, crouched now so they’re at eye-level. “It does matter, and it’s possible.” She says, almost pleads, actually. “So we have to wait to separate, big deal. We can do it in the end. Why do you keep insisting it’s not worth it?”

So many reasons, she can’t even count.

“It’s your baby, Frost. Isn’t anything worth it?”

Yes, of course. If it weren’t hers, if it were Caity’s, anything and everything would be worth it. She would never come out again if she had to.

She can feel Caity frowning, but she doesn’t look. She keeps her eyes on her lap, her mind wondering when she can wake up.

“Just… do what you really want, ok?” Caity asks of her, reaching forward and putting a hand on hers.

But they’re in a dream, so she doesn’t really feel it.

“Whatever that is,” Caity continues, “I’ll be right here.”


	8. It All Starts With a Choice

When she wakes up, really wakes up this time, the overhead lights of the med bay are still the first thing Frost sees. As she sits up and looks around her attention is immediately drawn to the stool where Caity had been sitting in the dream, and it isn’t empty.

Mick is sitting there, getting to his feet when he realizes she’s up.

“Gideon says you freaked out.”

“Yeah.” She huffs, “Turns out that’s an issue with me.”

He grunts, then starts over for a little cubby in the wall, and punches some combination of things into the buttons on the side of it.

“Well, if it’s the kid’s fault, got something here that’ll take care of it.”

She gulps, and he pulls something out of the little cubby and holds it out to her. It’s a pill. This tiny, white, circle in his gloved hand, barely the size of the tip of her pinky. She doesn’t know what she was expecting this to be, but she supposes she thought it would be more.

More complicated, more invasive, more torture looking. She hadn’t thought it would be only a pill, held out to her expectantly; because she’s made it clear it’s what she wants.

Except for it isn’t.

“I can’t.” She says, and she watches for Mick’s reaction. But Mick, not really one for emotions, doesn’t give her much to go off of.

He looks mildly surprised, and she can’t decide if that’s good or bad. Either way, it’s clear he isn’t going to say anything, so she sits herself up a little straighter and sighs deeply.

“I’m gonna keep it.” She says, matter-of-fact, and more to herself than to him, though she still looks to him for some sign of an opinion.

None. Again.

“Keep it, keep it. It’s like me, I can’t put that into the foster system.”

She isn’t really expecting him to say anything at this point. She’s more just trying to get the thoughts out so that she can make sense of them. If he wants to put something into the ring then he is more than welcome to.

Apparently, he does.

“System’s a mess.” He says, and there’s a certain weight to his words… she almost wants to ask, but she refrains. “So are we.”

She nods. That’s the understatement of the century right there.

“Caity says she’ll raise it.” She offers, and the raised eyebrow of interest is probably the most discernible reaction she’s gotten from him since she initially broke the news, and it knots her stomach.

He wants that.

“If I decide I don’t want it.” She forces herself to say, and she tries not to let it hit her when he steels his mouth into a firm line.

“Any thoughts on that?”

He’s quiet, maybe thoughtful even, so she’ll take it as a good sign.

“Up to you, I guess.” He eventually says with a shrug. “Snow’s a hell of a lot more cut out for parenting than I am.”

_Than we are._

He doesn’t say it, but she hears it all the same, and he’s right.

The notion brings about the feeling of water pricking at the corners of her eyes, but not strongly. Maybe it would be worse if he were saying more, but he isn’t. He’s just watching her, waiting for her to do something with the ball he adamantly refuses to take from her court.

She gets up, slow; the last thing she wants is to pass out again.

“I might give it a shot.” She says, more of a mumble, and he hums, way back at the back of his throat, but he still doesn’t _say_anything.

That’s fine; she’s not going to drag this out so he feels like he has to.

“You want me to let you know when I decide for sure?”

That, that of all things, seems to give him pause.

His neutral expression slips, and his eyes flicker with almost… interest? Maybe, or maybe just something close, but as quick as it’s come on it’s gone again, and he shrugs.

“Sure.” He says, though his tone isn’t all that invested. “You uh… You want, like, child support or something?”

And that gives her pause.

She hadn’t thought about that. Hell, going into today she had been refusing to even entertain the mere notion of her raising this baby, be that with his help or not. Actually, his suggestion is so absurd it manages brings a scoff to her lips.

“I doubt being a rogue time traveler has a high paycheck.” She mocks, cocking one hand on her hip and shifting her weight into one foot. It’s a tiny moment, but it’s the most like herself she’s felt since this whole thing started.

But, she can’t just let him writhe with that.

“I’ll let you know.” She says, “Maybe, cause if Caity and I split I can’t be depending on her.”

She hasn’t even begun to think about all the practicalities of splitting from Caity, and with a baby, oh this really is a bad idea.

“Don’t worry,” she says, “I’ll give you notice. Thanks for everything.”

She moves past him, off to see herself out, and for a split second she could swear he has this look on his face like he might have something more to say. So she takes her time, until she’s all the way down the hall and then around the corner, but he stays quiet and right where he is, and lets her leave the ship without a single protest.

Speaking of the ship, it’s parked in the back lot of S.T.A.R. Labs, and she knows everyone inside is waiting for the final word on what’s going on with her and Caity. She doesn’t want to go in there, not at all, but her friends deserve an answer; they deserve to know they won’t be seeing Caity for a while.

She finds them all in the cortex, business as usual, until Cisco takes notice of her standing in the entryway and then the whole room stops almost in unison.

“Um…” She stutters out, very much wishing she could be anywhere but here. “So… turns out Constantine can separate Caity and I but…we have to wait until the baby comes, or we could lose it in the process.”

There, that wasn’t so hard. It’s all out now, they know now, she can breathe now. Right? So why isn’t she?

Oh right, they’re all still staring at her.

“And Caitlin’s ok with this?” Barry asks, and he doesn’t _sound _doubtful, but Frost still finds herself gritting her teeth.

“She is.” She more or less sneers, and she sees the flash of some pained emotion in Cisco’s eyes, but he blinks it away before she can read into it.

And that’s that.

* * *

She moves through the rest of the day in a numb haze, first at S.T.A.R. Labs staring at papers she can’t even begin to comprehend, and then back at the apartment. She heats up some leftovers and sits at the counter picking at them, until there is nothing left in the little plastic bowl except for one sad and soggy piece if broccoli she just can’t bring herself to eat. So she leaves it in there, then sprays it down the drain, and leaves the bowl in the sink. She’ll wash it, later, but right now she feels like she needs a shower.

She avoids looking in the bathroom mirror as she undresses, as well as looking down at herself. She went through this in the doctor’s office last week; she doesn’t think she’s showing and she wouldn’t know if she was.

Somehow, that’s the thought to do it.

A sob hitches in her throat as she turns on the shower. Warm, not _too _much, but enough that she feels a little bit of a sting when the sharp drops hit against her skin.

As she climbs into the tub and pulls the curtain towards herself, that sob squeaks out in a hiccup, and the tears finally start to trail out from the corners of her eyes. Sinking down to the floor of the tub and bringing her knees to her chest, she lets the cries come out as wails. She lets the tears mix with the hot water of the shower until she can’t see anymore, and it isn’t long before the steam has piled up in the room and mixed with her uneven breathes to make breathing difficult.

Crap, she forgot to turn on the fan.

The cry that escapes her next is almost a scream, hopefully drowned out by the sound of the water and she allows her body to slip downwards. That’s a mistake, of course, because she starts getting water in her mouth and so she cries harder as she turns her head to the side, not unaware of the temperature dropping rapidly around her, freezing the water above her, and she cries on.

She’s in the midst of a full-blown tantrum at this point, as though _she _were the baby. She can’t help it. How is she supposed to do this? Without Caity at that, because she doesn’t know how to come forward while staying under. But normal people do it without a sensible second voice in their heads, why can’t she?

“Because I’m not a fucking normal person!” She screams the answer aloud, re-curling in on herself as much as she can without moving away from the wall of the tub.

Eventually she rides her fit out to an end. Her tears slow to a stop, the water stops freezing from the showerhead and the return of the warn water melts away the icy droplets frozen in mid-air. She picks herself up and turns off the shower, and even though it is still much earlier than she would like it to be she opens up Caity’s second drawer and pulls out the oldest pair of sweatpants and rattiest t-shirt she can find. She takes enough time to pull a brush through her wet hair, and after brushing her teeth she crawls into the bed and falls asleep soon as her head hits the pillow.

* * *

When she wakes up in the morning there is, blessedly, no sickness straight away. A nauseous feeling that makes her groan and reach for Caity’s water cup, which is disappointedly empty, but it stays at that. There is no racing up to get to the bathroom, lying there is enough. A big part of her is grateful for that, even if an even bigger part of her that has probably been influenced by Caity knows it means things are getting that much more permanent. Morning sickness usually stops the deeper you get into the pregnancy.

She runs a hand over her face, exhausted and frustrated and… and scared.

Ralph was right.

Actually, maybe he was wrong. After all, according to Caity his theory is that she’s scared. But she isn’t scared.

She’s fucking terrified.

It’s a feeling she doesn’t even begin to know how to address, considering she can’t punch it or freeze it. It’s all consuming, and she just wants to stay in bed and sleep it all away.

That thought is tempting, but equally dangerous, and while starting off this whole disaster by spending the first day of her new life lying in bed is probably understandable she still forces herself to get up.

She frowns when she opens the bottom drawer of Caity’s dresser; her designated drawer. She doesn’t have much in terms of clothes, and what she does have is all skinny jeans and fitted shirts. Looks like she’s going to need new clothes sooner rather later, for the sake of laundry if nothing else.

She sighs and pulls on a pair of black jeans, relived when they button just fine; she isn’t sure she could handle finding evidence of showing today. Her bra is a little snugger than she remembers, not tight but she has to pull and adjust the cups to get them to cover her in the right way. Whatever, she can handle that. She pulls on a loose t-shirt and then… then she stands there.

Should she even bother going to S.T.A.R. Labs?

What is she supposed to do there? She isn’t Caity, she can’t help them in the ways that Caity can. That’s the whole point of her. To fight the battles that Caity can’t, it isn’t supposed to be the other way around. She isn’t in the mood to be stared at either, or walked around like she’s some intruder who has taken over their friend’s life.

No, she really isn’t in the mood to deal with any of that.

Tomorrow, she decides. She’ll face them all tomorrow; deal with the consequences of all this tomorrow. She’ll worry about her clothes and another doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Today, since she is determined not to stay in bed, she’ll camp out on the couch and watch some of the worst movies Netflix has to offer.


	9. One Down, One to Go

After discovering that Netflix doesn’t have _The Breakfast Club _she ends up watching _Shrek_, then half of _Get Smart _before falling asleep through the second half_, _and then she’s searching through for maybe a show to watch.

The things in Caity’s “previously watched” queue are, of course, all obnoxious. _Friends, The Good Place, Orange is the New Black. _All stupid things about stupid people working together.

She briefly considers typing into the search bar “shows for lonely people” but decides that is a level of pathetic she would rather not reach today, and she isn’t in the mindset for _Cold Case Files_. She decides it’s late enough into the afternoon now that she might as well get up and make herself lunch, which ends up being a cold ham and cheese sandwich, since she isn’t sure of how much she can stomach or even of her culinary abilities beyond that.

She frowns and looks at the stove, thinking. Caity knows how to cook, enough that she took it upon herself to teach Barry how to make a pie for Thanksgiving.

She closes her eyes; she can’t help but think ahead to how much better her kid’s life would be with Caity raising it. Homemade birthday cakes every year, dinner that didn’t come from a microwave, a mom who knows the answer to at least the simplest questions.

She sighs, and realizes that at some point in her musings she’d come to rest a hand over her flat stomach. There’s nothing there, yet, to indicate that she’s pregnant. But she sighs and rubs her hand over the surface anyways.

“What do you think, kid?” She asks into the air, looking down at her hand. “Is it totally selfish to make you put up with me?”  
She sighs again, not yet taking her hand back, and instead of eating her pathetic little sandwich she leans her back against the counter and starts to try and sort through the things she’ll need in order to build a life for herself before the baby gets here, not counting the things she’ll need for the baby.

There are big things. A job. A place of her own. A name.

She almost laughs despite herself, despite the tears coming back to her eyes. Not only does she have to worry about naming a kid, she has to name herself too, lest she wants to live out her days going by Killer Frost.

She’ll need records too, papers, something to say she has, in fact, been on this Earth for the past thirty years. She’s also going to have to get those without threatening someone in the criminal underworld, which is unfortunately the first idea that comes to mind in terms of solving that problem.

She’s just going to have to go with the second idea.

* * *

Ralph, after spending the morning helping out at S.T.A.R. Labs, is already running through notes in his head about the woman who came to him yesterday to find out if her husband is cheating on her. Actually, woman might be an overstatement; she looked like she was nineteen at best. Poor kid, really, if her husband is cheating on her, and the signs point that he is. He’ll give her a discount if that’s the case.

He’s entertaining a theory about the husband when he turns the corner and every thought of the case goes flying out of his head, replaced by the new development he’s just laid eyes on.

Frost, sat on the ground beside his door.

She gets up soon as she sees him, and the two of them look at each other for a long moment, and he can’t help but to remember yesterday.

* * *

_That atmosphere today has been… different. Not heavy, not light, but different, and no matter where he goes in the Labs he can’t seem to get away from it._

_The new tension follows Frost around like a storm cloud, and lingers whenever she leaves the room. She’s been around all week, because her and Caitlin apparently contacted the Legends after finding out only she can carry the baby, to see about maybe separating them, and today is the day she’s supposed to meet with them._

_Then, just a little before two o’clock rolls around, she’s gone, and she’s gone for hours._

_Normally, unless there is a disaster happening, Ralph doesn’t stay at S.T.A.R. Labs this late. He likes to go to his P.I. office in the afternoon if he can, either do some busy work or work on a case if he has one. Keep up appearances mostly; no one likes to take their case to a P.I. who’s never around._

_But he stays today, he’s as curious as anyone to find out what’s going to happen with the whole Caitlin, Frost, baby dynamic._

_Despite having been gone the majority of the afternoon, it feels like it’s only been minutes when Frost shows back up in that doorway, and she looks so, so scared. She tells them she has to stay out until she has the baby, then she and Caitlin can be separated._

_Then she leaves._

_He moves to go after her, but Iris steps in front of him._

_“Hey,” she says, firm but calm, even if her expression is shaken. “Give her some time.”_

* * *

Time must be up now, if she’s come to him.

“Hey.” He says, as he digs through his pocket.

“Hey.” She returns quietly, her arms wrapped around herself.

He doesn’t make any comment on it, just invites her in and closes the door behind her.

“Sorry for the mess.” He says, moving to his desk to clear away the scattered files and other odds and ends cluttering it, but stops when she drops onto his futon.

“It’s fine.” She says, and with a nod he abandons his task and joins her.

“Right,” he says, “So uh, what’s going on?”

She doesn’t answer.

“When you didn’t show up at the lab today we all figured you might have wanted some alone time.”

She shrugs, but still remains quiet.

“To um, you know, process everything. From yesterday.”

Still nothing.

They sit in silence for a long, awkward moment. Him looking at her and her looking very intently at her fingernails while she picks at them. He knows he has to wait for her to speak, even if patience could hardly be considered a strong suit for him. Still, he tries. He starts bouncing his leg and wringing his hands anxiously together in the process, a million and one questions racing through his mind. But he won’t give voice to a single one of them; he’ll let her say her piece first.

Then, just when he thinks he is about to crack, she finally does.

“What do you know about getting a new identity?”

His mind blanks.

That…. That is not what he had been expecting, at all.

“Uh… I know people do it.” He manages to stutter out. “I know people who have done it, I personally have never done it but-”

“How dangerous?”

“What?”

“How dangerous are the people you know?” She clarifies, even if it isn’t much of a clarification. “Are they the kind of people you need to kill or owe to get them to get one for you? Do they just want money? What-?”

“Whoa, whoa.” He says, holding a hand out at her, “Slow down. Why do you need a new identity?”

He’s getting genuinely worried here. He may not have been around for the prime killing portion of her Killer Frost career, and he’s sure she has enemies, but the kind she suddenly has to skip town to get away from? Who on this Earth is she afraid of?

The idea of someone like that makes his blood boil and face pale all at once.

“Well, I need _an _identity.”

Again, he’s drawing a blank on this one.

She must see the confusion on his face, because she huffs and frowns, then she adjusts herself so that she’s sitting on the very edge of the futon and starts playing with the ends of her hair.

It’s unsettling, she looks even more uncomfortable than she did the morning she told him she was pregnant.

“If Caity and I are going to separate then I need an identity.” She explains, “I need a name, an address, some way to get a job. I need a past that I don’t have.”

Oh, right.

There’s a lot to unpack in that statement, but he doubts she’ll let him right now, so instead he’s just going to focus on what she’s asked of him.

“Well,” He finally answers, “I might know one person who can help.”

* * *

Felicity Smoak is not who Frost had in mind when she went to Ralph.

Ralph’s a loser, or at least he used to be. She’d been hoping that maybe there could be an even bigger loser out there who makes fake I.D.’s that he might have either gotten out of jail or put someone in jail for. But no, instead he’d called up Team Arrow’s resident tech wiz and relayed the situation.

Apparently, Felicity could create a very believable fake history in her sleep.

“Do you have a name yet?” She asks, phone on speaker, and Ralph, sitting at his desk now with her hovering over his shoulder, looks to her for answer.

Of course, she doesn’t have a fucking name picked out yet.

Ralph gives her an _“are you serious?” _expression and she raises her arms in a semi-dramatic shrug.

“I’m going to take that resounding silence as a no.” Felicity says, “Ok, so creating all the records and everything from scratch will take me a day anyway, two if I take my time, and judging by how unprepared you are it sounds like I have time to do that. So I’ll spend the next two days doing that and add the name in everywhere at the end, ok?”

It’s not ok. She didn’t think this was going to get done this week, never mind in the next two days. But Ralph, of course, looks to her for an answer, and what can she say?

“Ok.” She says, “Thank you. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d have time right away to do it-”

“No worries.” Felicity says, “Oliver and I are taking some time off, sort of, for now. So I have more free time than I’m used to right now.”

“Ok, thanks Felicity. Have a nice vacation.” Ralph says, and Frost is pretty sure Felicity is not on vacation, probably in hiding actually, and if that’s the case she wonders how smart giving her number out was.

Whatever, bigger problems.

“So?” Ralph asks, looking up at her once again, but with none of the judgment from before. “You want to throw names back and forth?”

She doesn’t, honestly, not right this second. In an hour, maybe. She just needs some time to digest that this is happening.

“Maybe later.” She deflects, “What’s happening in the P.I. world right now?”

He looks like he wants to deflect the question, but she picks up one of his files and starts skimming.

“Cheating husband.” She murmurs to herself, “Moron.”

She ends up helping him with the case, and whenever they hit a slump with that they start throwing out names for her new identity. At some point he orders Chinese food, and the delivery girl makes a comment about it being more than what he usually gets, then they end up on their own ends of his futon with their respective boxes in hand.

“I’m just saying,” she starts, stabbing a beef bit in her Lo Mien. “The guy is nineteen. How has been married long enough to be cheating?”

“I don’t know.” Ralph says, “I wonder if he really wanted to get married. His parents had him and got married right out of high school, maybe he thought that was just what he was supposed to do.”

“Maybe.” She agrees, around a good-sized bit of her dinner.

“Alright, back to you.” Ralph says and she tips her head back and groans. “Yes, don’t give me that.” He chastises her, playfully. “Come on, we can’t rehash my problem anymore, onto yours.”

“I don’t have a problem.” She says, “I just don’t have a name.”

“And for the paperwork Felicity is making for you, that’s a problem.”

She rolls her eyes, and of course Ralph just straightens up and puts his container of food on the floor.

“Come on.” He says, “You have an opportunity most people don’t. You get to pick any name you want for yourself.”

“Anyone can do that.” She argues, and he shrugs.

“True, but not many people really do.” He counters, “There’s got to be a name you’ve always wanted. Everyone’s got one.”

“Oh yeah?” She snorts, “What’s yours?”

She doesn’t think he’s really going to answer her, but she should know him better than that.

“Johnny.” He answers easily, and with an eyebrow raised she chuckles.

“Johnny?” She asks, “Of all the names in the world, you wish you had been born a Johnny?”

“Yeah.” He says with a shrug, “I mean first of all Johnny Kelly was the greatest detective of all time.”

“No idea who that is.”

“Remind me to introduce you to Film Noir.” He says without missing a beat. “Secondly, my mom played a lot of Johnny Cash around the house when I was growing up.” With that he pauses, a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, now that I think about it, the boy named Sue could’ve changed his name.”

“The boy named Sue?” She asks, maybe he’s messing with her, but he chuckles in a completely sincere way.

“Yeah, the boy named Sue. Whose daddy left home when he was three, but not before he went and named his son Sue.”

He explains what she’s assuming is a song in an exaggerated southern accent, and she can’t help but laugh. Whether it’s her reaction or the memory tied to the song for him, something brings a soft smile to his face.

“I’ve always liked the name Sue.”

She hums, but scrunches her nose. “Not for me.”

He chuckles, and his face is still soft, and happy, but it’s also easy to see he is back completely in the present.

“So what is?”

She thinks about it, for real this time, and then puts her half empty box down to join his.

“I don’t know.” She admits as she sits back. “I spent most of my life unconscious, and when I did finally wake up, Caity had already given me a name: Killer Frost.”

Her voice dips a bit when she says her name, her eyes too, and she hadn’t _meant _for it to come out so, well, cold and resenting. But judging by Ralph’s face, that’s exactly how it’s come out.

“We mostly call you Frost now.” He says quietly, like he knows it’s not an excuse, and she forces a smile.

“I know.” She says, “And I appreciate it. But it’s not a real name that can go on legal records.”

“Anything is, technically.” He says, retrieving his dinner even as she rolls her eyes. “But ok, you don’t know what you want, but you do know you want something different. Do you want it just for your records? Or are you going to have all of us start using it?”  
Huh. She actually hadn’t considered that aspect.

“You could if you want to.” She answers after a minute of consideration. “I wouldn’t force you.”

He nods, biting a piece of chicken in half and letting the smaller half drop back into the box, a thoughtful look on his face as he chews.

“What about your last name?” He asks, “You making up one of those? Or are you going with Snow?”

That’s another thing she hadn’t considered.

She almost wants to berate herself over it, but she instead decides to keep in mind that she really _hadn’t _thought this would be getting taken care of quick as it is. She would’ve realized she needed a last name eventually, hopefully.

“I think Caity would be ok with me using Snow.” She answers, “But I’ll try and run it by her.”

“Ok, we’re half done.” He says, “Now we just need to think of something that goes with Snow, besides Caitlin, obviously.”

She rolls her eyes and picks up her own container, picking at the contents a bit before getting a good wad of noodles between her chopsticks. The conversation dies off for a little while as they finish eating, and it doesn’t pick up again until they’re done.

“Right now,” Ralph muses, “Your initials are technically K.F.S.” He looks to her as though he’s looking for an opinion. “You like the ring of that?”

She thinks about it, and while she thinks that it shouldn’t matter so much, she scrunches her nose.

“Maybe if the K didn’t stand for killer.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

He says it completely earnestly, and it makes her heart ache, because honestly she isn’t sure she believes him.

Even as Barry’s words from one of her first outings, however partial, echo in her mind.

_“Live up to your name Killer Frost, I want to see some killing.”_

She couldn’t kill him then, and she could never kill him now. She’s maimed, frozen, but she’s never actually killed.

Maybe she could live with the K, except…

“It’s not just that.” She admits, “Caity isn’t the only person who gave me a name with a K.”

At first Ralph looks like he doesn’t understand, but then something changes in his face.

“Khione.” He says, more to himself than to her. “Ok, so no K’s; got it.”

“Yeah.” She drawls, “Sorry.”

“No, hey, it’s your name.” He reminds her, “What about a C?” He asks, “Or, do you not want to be that close to Caitlin?”

She thinks about it a minute. It might be a little close, a little cliché. Once they separate she and Caity will be what, sisters? Is that what Felicity is going to put on her papers? Probably, she can’t imagine the genetic difference between them is much.

“C’s a good place to start.” She says and Ralph smiles, obviously happy he’s finally getting somewhere.

They spitball a few ideas, some which aren’t terrible and some which are just flat out no’s. Finally, Ralph decides to bring out his laptop and log onto a baby naming website.

“What are you making an account for?” She asks, the website hadn’t immediately popped the option in their faces, so it didn’t seem like you needed one.

“It lets you bookmark names if you have one.” He explains, to which she raises an eyebrow.

“I thought we were trying to make this decision tonight?”

He shrugs, an anxious expression taking over his face.

“I know.” He says, “I just thought, you know, if you see one you like for the baby and want to save it for later…” He trails off, looking back from her to the screen, and she can’t tell what is going through his head only that it’s going at a hundred miles a second.

She also knows that right now, with everything so up in the air, she would expect herself to not want to think about the baby at all. But, for whatever reason, it doesn’t seem so scary.

“Maybe if we get off the C’s.” She says, and he smiles, relieved and almost excited looking.

They scan through the C’s, and find some names they’ve already thought of and some they haven’t. She decides quickly that she doesn’t want anything with CA, that is too close to Caitlin for her liking.

There are a few she almost considers, tries them out on her tongue and with the last name Snow.

Chloe Snow

Charlie Snow

Clara Snow

“Crystal.” She says, reading one a little further down the list.

“Crystal Snow?” Ralph asks, “Are you sure that’s not a little on the nose? Or a stripper name?”

She thinks about it, and he’s right, but she finds that she doesn’t really mind.

“It’s not boring.” She says, “Kind of dangerous. I like it.”

And that’s that, so they move on to finding her a middle name.


	10. Settling In

It’s two days later, the day she’s supposed to get all her records from Felicity, that reality decides to hit her like a ton of bricks.

Frost doesn’t sleep great during the night and she’s up early, all thanks to the knowledge that once she gets everything for her new life she has every reason to use it and zero excuses not to. She has to figure things out, sooner rather than later, for the sake of the baby.

Which she could no longer push to the back of her mind even if she wanted to.

She lets out a loud groan of frustration, her back arching up off the mattress as her fingers continue to pull futilely at the band of her black jeans, but it’s no use, they won’t close.

After groaning again, and this time giving up, she tilts her chin up and looks down at herself. She doesn’t think she looks much bigger than she did yesterday, not so much at least that if she didn’t know she’s pregnant she would just assume the small protruding mound of her stomach were nothing more than bloating. But she does know she’s pregnant, which means this is only going to get worse.

Getting up and bending down to the bottom drawer she groans again, because not only does she still have very limited clothes but she’s gone through nearly all of them this week.

She huffs as she gets up, and she wishes there were another option but there isn’t far as she can see, so she starts going through Caity’s things. She hates wearing Caity’s clothes, for a multitude of reasons, and while she’s never had a problem before borrowing Caity’s credit card to get herself a decent jacket, or shirt, or whatever… things are different now.

She’s on her own now, and using Caity’s money feels wrong; even more so than using her clothes.

She manages to locate a pair of plain black leggings that aren’t hideous and a plaid blouse she doesn’t totally hate. The blouse, unfortunately, ends up being almost as much trouble as the jeans; apparently her waistline isn’t the only thing getting bigger. She discards the blouse and ends up finding an old Washington State t-shirt she’s sure Caity only wears to bed these days, but whatever, it fits.

She makes herself a breakfast of cereal, grateful she’s able to keep it down, and takes her vitamins, all that fun stuff. She made a doctors appointment yesterday, since she has decided to keep the baby, and that’ll be for her seventeenth week. That’s still under Caity’s name, and maybe she’ll talk with the doctor about moving it to her name, if it’s possible to do that without getting herself sent to prison for identity theft or something like that.

One problem at a time.

By the time she opens Caity’s laptop and signs into the email she’s set up for herself the file from Felicity is already there. There’s a message attached letting her know that she’s sending over some hard copies the old fashion way, but all the digital stuff is there. She has records now, no reason she can’t get her life together.

Except for, maybe, she has no idea how to do it.

Finding a job is the first thing to come to her mind. She needs one sooner rather than later, but finding someone willing to hire a pregnant woman anywhere is going to be tough, if not impossible.

Maybe she can work at S.T.A.R. Labs, she’s sure Barry and Iris could find some way to justify adding her to the payroll, so long as she can stand to be there.

Well, no time like the present to test that.

* * *

It’s been a few days since Cisco last saw Frost. She came in, broke the news that she and Caitlin can’t separate until the baby comes, and then she left.

Honestly, he’s a little thankful for it.

He doesn’t have anything against Frost, or Crystal now, according to Ralph. He likes her enough; she’s fun, but to know that he isn’t going to see Caitlin for five more months is something he doesn’t feel great about. To have a few days to get his thoughts in order was a blessing, and so when she shows up in the cortex this morning he only freezes up for a few seconds.

He’s the only one around, right now, and he’s at the monitors so of course he’s right in front of the entrance. They stare at each other for a long moment, an awkward tension between them that come with... well, whatever their whole dynamic is.

“Uh, hey.” He says, “I uh, I heard you picked a name, for yourself. Not the baby.”

“Yeah.” She says quickly, “Crystal Louise, and Caity says it’s alright if I use her last name. She says we’re like identical twins in terms of genes.”

“You can still talk to Caitlin?” He asks hopefully, but he sees the way her eyes flit away, for a fraction of a second, and it quashes that hope.

“In my sleep, when I wear that cerebral thing.” She explains, “I wear it most nights, give Caity updates. She says hi.”

He nods, and he’s torn between wanting to ask how many days old that message is, and taking the win and telling her to relay to Caitlin that he says hi as well.

But in the end he can’t bring himself to do either. He doesn’t have it in him to chastise her if she’s waited a day or two to tell him Caitlin says hi, and despite having known her since the first time she came out, he doesn’t feel like they’re on the terms yet where he can ask her for a favor; even a small one like that.

He turns back to his work, and with nothing else to do in here she ducks out, leaving him be.

* * *

The next couple days are some of the best Frost has had since this whole debacle of being pregnant and figuring out what to do started. She talks with Barry and Iris about adding her to the payroll and they tell her they’ll try and figure something out, since she would need an actual job title and her qualifications need to meet it, which even with Felicity’s help she has minimal of. They tell her that, for now, they can get away with paying her as if she were Caity, which isn’t perfect, but it’ll work for the time being.

With that more or less squared away she finally feels like she can breathe for five minute. She has a name of her own, some semblance of a job, and yes she still needs to figure out a living situation but she feels like she can procrastinate that by at least a month or two, until she can save up some more money. She gets some maternity clothes, although she hates most of what she sees in the stores and so she only ends up buying two pairs of jeans there for now, tops she just buys a size bigger than she normally would. She’s happy settling into a routine, into a life, and things seem like they’re all under control.

That is, of course, until they aren’t.

She seriously wants to put her head through a wall with the rise of her latest problem, or maybe bury herself in a hole.

Stupid pregnancy hormones.

It doesn’t come on slow either, not with her luck. She’s watching TV like any other night, she’s really gotten into_Grey’s Anatomy _lately, when suddenly the copious amount of hook-ups on the show are a little more distracting than usual. She’s thirty-two minutes deep into her third episode of the night and she still can’t shake the feeling of want that watching Christina and Burke rush into the on-call room earlier left in her, not even after she’s laughed about Christina finding out she’s pregnant, which should’ve been a mood killer given her situation. So, before she goes to bed that night, she makes herself comfortable and removes her sweatpants and underwear. She uses her hand to get what she needs, and she does it pretty quickly. Once she’s done, she cleans up enough to where she only feels a little dirty going to sleep without showering, on the opposite side of the bed. Nothing complicated.

Except now it’s been a week, and she’s done this every night, and it’s getting old quick.

She never thought she would complain about getting off, but considering she’s been exclusively doing it herself she thinks it’s justified. It isn’t like there’s anything specific turning her on either, because that would be easy. It’s more like the feeling builds throughout the day, and she’s forced herself to stop watching _Grey’s_ at night because watching a show with that many attractive people in it certainly isn’t doing her any favors. The idea to go out looking for a hook-up has crossed her mind, more than once, but where is she going to go? She can’t drink, so a bar is out, and she doesn’t feel like stooping so low as to go to the seedier clubs. No, she won’t go there.

But, she has to do something.

So, logically, she does the next best thing apart from going to look for a hook-up; she goes to a sex shop.

She’s there for about five minute, browsing the selection of dildos and wondering why it is some come doused in glitter, when the bell over the top of the shop door dings and she looks up purely out of instinct.

She really wishes she hadn’t.

Almost one million people in this city, she knows maybe ten of them, and one of those ten had to walk through that door.

Not just any one of them, no. It had to be Ralph Dibny.

For a moment she’s embarrassed, because his eyes are right on her and then he’s walking towards her. She rolls her eyes as he does, reminds herself that he’s here too so she has nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, she goes back to shopping until he’s standing right next to her.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, and she shrugs, picks up one of the glitter covered dildos, and with the most indifferent face she can manage she points it casually at him.

“Wondering if glitter can cause an infection.” She drawls, and he looks absolutely scandalized, which breaks her resolve and has her smirking.

“Hormones.” She answers honestly, putting the toy back where it belongs and picking a different one, one without glitter. “Turns out pregnancy making you horny is no joke, and going out looking for a hook-up could get complicated, so here I am. You?”

He gapes at her a moment, speechless long enough that she moves on to the vibrator section, and has to check over her shoulder to be sure he’s following her.

Which, of course he is.

“I’m, I’m following up on a lead for a missing person’s case.” He explains, “I… Sorry, when I asked what you were doing here… I didn’t mean-”

He stops, and looks around wildly, as though to make sure they aren’t being listened to. Out of habit, she glances over at the cashier across the store. An older woman, wearing a stained t-shirt and flipping through a magazine. Ralph seems satisfied that she doesn’t care about them, but even so, he lowers his voice when he speaks again.

“Just be careful here.” He says, “A girl went missing last week, and the owner still hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

She almost tells him she can take care of herself, but she knows him, and she knows he knows that. So she nods.

If she ends up going back later that night and persuading the woman to tell her where the owner lives, and then the Flash ends up doing a run through of his house and finding Ralph’s missing girl in the basement, well it makes sleeping easier.

Not totally possible, but easier.

Something else that makes getting to sleep easier? The vibrator, which she bought at a different shop. It’s not a cure all, but she generally manages to hold herself off until after work before she gives into the hormone-induced mess that builds inside of her throughout each day. If she leans into the corner of a desk at just the right angle a handful of times, so that something is at least pressing against the right spot down there, she’s careful to do it discretely.

Ralph never brings it up, something she’s beyond grateful for, she doesn’t need the embarrassment of the others knowing exactly what this baby is doing to her.

Speaking of the baby, as the days tick by and she slowly gets closer to her next appointment, it steadily becomes all she can think about.

It’s a weird feeling, that of almost looking forward to the appointment. She’d thought she would be a mental wreck, drowning in her own insecurities more and more as it neared; that’s how things have been with this pregnancy so far. But as the days turn to weeks the fear keeps subsiding, and thoughts of the baby are less and less filled with overwhelming dread.

She keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the day finally comes for her seventeen-week appointment and she feels fine. Totally, un-anxiously, fine. Three hours until she has to face Dr. Jones again for the first time since she told her she was getting an abortion, and even the thought of that is hardly nerve-wracking. She feels confidant. She feels good.

That is, until every alarm in S.T.A.R. Labs starts flashing red.


	11. Never Easy as it Seems

She’s already pulling up the satellite footage of downtown when Cisco comes running in, demanding to know what’s happening.

It’s a meta; a new one by the looks of it, walking around in front of the courthouse and while not outright attacking people, they are completely engulfed in fire, so that’s a problem.

“What’s going on?” Barry asks as he and Iris come through the door, Ralph right on their heels.

“There’s a living fire walking around downtown.” Cisco reports, “According to this the fire department has tried putting him out but they’re saying it doesn’t last more than a few seconds. Good news is he hasn’t tried to intentionally hurt more than a metal railing.”

“Ok, that’s good.” Iris agrees.

“Yeah.” Cisco says, “Odds are this guy didn’t even know he had powers until now.”

“Which probably means he can’t turn them off.” Barry says, and Frost doesn’t miss the uncomfortable glance he throws in her direction, before looking back to Cisco. “What about Caitlin’s power dampening cuffs?”

Cisco, unlike Barry, doesn’t even look at her with that thought in his head, and frankly she is fine with that.

“I’d have to calibrate them specifically to his powers. I can do it but we need to cool him down enough to actually get them on him, the guy’s temperature has to be off the charts.”

Frost sees Ralph look at her out of the corner of his eye, Iris too. It’s in all their minds, hers too. It’s the obvious, most simple, solution.

But none of them will say it.

“I can cool him down.” She offers, because she’ll say it if they won’t.

They look at her like she’s crazy, with some pity mixed in, all except Cisco who, oddly enough, looks thoughtful and as though he is not immediately against the solution.

She’s not sure if that should be taken as a vote of confidence or a confirmation of hatred.

It’s Iris who is the first to vocalize her doubts, now that the offer is out there.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She says, “I know you can take care of yourself out there-”

“If anything happens, it’ll be bad.” She finishes for her, “I know. This guy isn’t outright attacking, he’s let the fire department try and put him out. As long as he doesn’t try and fight me-”

“It’s not just about that.” Barry’s the one to interrupt her this time. “You can tell you’re pregnant now, from a distance, and there are cameras down there. If the wrong bad guy sees you-”

“They’ll think I’m incapacitated?” She challenges, a hand on her hip, but Barry’s serious face only grows graver.

“They’ll know exactly who to kidnap this time next year.”

With her body temperature cold as it is, she doesn’t feel goose bumps often. But she does in that moment. She feels the hairs on her arm stand on end, and in the same moment a cry rings out on the computer. Things are escalating downtown; their new meta is burning hotter by the second.

“I might have a solution to that problem.” Cisco speaks up, and without another word said he gets up and starts moving across the room. He retrieves something out of a drawer and when he holds it up Frost doubts she’s the only one who’s lost here; it’s a belt.

A simple belt with a black elastic band and a sparkling snowflake emblem.

“Does it do something?” She asks as he holds it out to her, and he shakes his head.

“Just some optical illusion.”

“Like a hologram?” Iris asks, but again Cisco shakes his head.

“Her costume’s black and she has a jacket, that’ll help already. If she wears this it’ll break up any outline people can see of her stomach. If they think she’s pregnant, they’ll second guess it.”

“That’s your plan?” Barry asks, “Adding a belt to her costume and hoping no one notices she’s pregnant?”

“I’m sorry, did you not see the full body shots of Scarlett Johansson in Age of Ultron?”

It’s a ridiculously simple, not to mention optimistic, solution. She can understand Barry’s doubts, especially knowing where Cisco got this idea, but another look at the monitors shows things getting even worse with their new meta; they don’t have time for this.

She takes the belt.

“I’ll bring Ralph to run interference.” She says, “He loves the cameras.”

Ralph, thankfully, doesn’t argue.

* * *

She’s a little surprised she manages to fit into her suit. Granted it isn’t the most comfortable thing, and she needs Iris’s help with zipping her in, but she gets in without it looking like it’s killing her in the end, and that’s what counts.

When she and Ralph arrive downtown the street is cleared already of pedestrians. There are still cops and a few reporters, all of whom are keeping their distance out of fear of being burned alive. That’s good, since Cisco’s “disguise” for her pregnancy will work best if people don’t get too close. Ralph gets right on damage control, keeping people away from the few random trees and other such objects that have caught fire in the chaos, while she heads for the steps of the courthouse.

The man on fire is standing almost perfectly still, his heavy breathing the only exception. He sees her, his white eyes honed in on her from the moment she starts walking.

“Stay back!” He calls, jerking out a hand that sends a fiery blast her way.

She raises her own hand and obliterates it just as quickly, leaving nothing more than a puff of steam in the air between them.

“It’s alright.” She tells him, “I can help you.”

He doesn’t argue, though she suspects he might have had he not just seen what she can do to his powers. He doesn’t protest when she starts her approach again, not even when she’s right in front of him.

All she has to do is touch his shoulder, and soon as she does she can feel his molten skin cooling under her touch. The flames die and the red gives way to a deep brown color, the white of his eyes receding until his iris’s are the color of his skin and his pupils even darker. He’s a kid, she realizes as his powers fade away, a teenager. With her free hand she reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out Caity’s little administrator.

“This is a cure.” She tells him, noting how his eyes widen. “I have dampeners too, if you’d rather.”

She doesn’t blame him when he doesn’t answer right away; she doubts he thought he would be making this decision today.

“Cure.” He finally stutters and she raises an eyebrow, though she would question either decision.

“You sure?”

He nods, frantically.

“Yeah.”

Ok.

She slides her hand from his shoulder to his arm, never letting go of him, and turns it upwards and presses the button on the administrator. She looks at him once more, and he nods again. Even so she moves slowly, giving him every chance to back out before she has the blue light pressed against his skin. He flinches with the cure entering his system, his arm lighting up blue, and then orange.

She jumps back, and the moment she does the fire starts back up again.

“What?” He asks, panic clear in his voice, and he looks at her with tears in his eyes and fear all over his face.

She fumbles around in her other pocket for the cuffs, doing her best to never once tear her eyes from him even for a half a second. He’s starting to hyperventilate again, even as she finally retrieves the cuffs and secures them on his wrists.

Fortunately, those work, and the fire dies quick as it had come back, though that doesn’t stop him from gripping tight to her bicep.

She exhales hard as he does, holding onto his arms and looking into his fearful eyes.

“Ok.” She says, “New plan. Let’s get you some help.”

He nods, his breath shaking as much as he is.

“Hey.” She says, looking into his eyes, “It’s going to be ok.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he moves with her when she gives him a gentle tug. She doesn’t take her hand off him even as she looks around for Ralph, cocking her head towards the way they’d come to signal him that it’s time to move out.

They have the S.T.A.R. Labs van parked around the block, and while Ralph gets into the driver’s seat she opens up the back and tells their new guest to get in.

He does as he’s told, and she doesn’t miss how his breath hitches when she finally lets go of his arm.

“Don’t worry.” She says, “The cuffs are designed to suppress meta powers by regulating body temperature, they’ll keep you from lighting up until we can figure out why the cure didn’t work.”

“Where are you taking me?” He asks, and his voice is almost calm, a stark contrast from the rest of him.

“S.T.A.R. Labs.” She answers, “There are people there who can help you.”

He’s apparently satisfied with the answer, and she really should close the door already and get into the passenger seat.

“What’s your name, kid?” She asks first.

“Isaiah.”

She smiles, and she hopes it comes off more as friendly than creepy. She HAS pretty much just abducted him and put him into the back of a van.

“I’m Crystal.”

With that she closes the door, and when she climbs up into her seat Ralph is looking at her like she is absolutely insane.

“What?”

“Uh… Nothing.” He says, and starts the van while she buckles up, grunting a bit as the seatbelt cuts uncomfortably against her neck. Her stomach is starting to get in the way of some things, and it’s only going to get worse.

Fun.

“Hey.” Ralph says as he starts to drive. “Do you want me to drop you at the doctor’s?”

She frowns and looks at the van’s clock. That would probably be best, time wise. It would put her there early but by the time they get to S.T.A.R. Labs, she changes, and gets there she’ll really be pushing it.

Still, one look down at herself is all she needs to determine she’d rather be late than early today.

“I’m not showing up to the doctor’s in this.”

“There’s some spare clothes in the back.”

She looks in the back, specifically at the teenager sitting there trying to make it look like he isn’t listening, and then she turns back.

“Pass.”

* * *

When they make it back to S.T.A.R. Labs Ralph takes Isaiah into the med room, since that’s usually where they put visitors who they’d rather keep out of the pipeline. She grabs her clothes out of there quick and goes into the bathroom to change. She’s still putting off buying one single actual maternity shirt; they’re all just so frilly. Right now she has a grey tank top that fits but clings a little, enough to make her pregnancy obvious, and the weather is getting colder so it really isn’t going to last her much longer. Oh well, that’s a problem for another day.

Once she’s changed she just needs to run back into the med room to put her suit away and grab her keys. She doesn’t think twice about Isaiah still being in there, not until she hears him gasp under his breath the second she storms in.

She goes about her business at first, hanging up her suit in the closet, right behind Caity’s lab coat, and she grabs her keys and her wallet from the shelf above. Only then does she turn with a hand on her hip and stare down the teenager who looks like he wants to disappear; and she hasn’t even corrected him on starring yet.

“You ok, kid?”

“Uh… You… You’re…”

“I’m pregnant.” She confirms for him, “On my way to an ultrasound right now. What about it?”

“Nothing! You… I mean… I could’ve killed you today!”

She stiffens, her mind blank. She hadn’t expected that to be what he was concerned with.

“You weren’t attacking-”

“I didn’t know what I was doing!” He interrupts her, loudly.

It’s quiet while she eyes him, while she watches the tears of panic gathering in his eyes. He’s obviously had quite the day. It breaks her heart, not to mention almost brings tears to her eyes; something she is going to blame on the pregnancy hormones.

“All I felt was anger, and fear. Then everything was blurry and… it was so hot.”

He’s starting to hyperventilate again, so she takes that as her cue to step closer.

“Hey.” She says, her voice soft as she can will it to be. “Don’t worry about it, ok? No one was hurt. If it makes you feel any better, you have really crappy aim.”

He chuckles, a little, and it isn’t enough but it’ll have to do.

“I have to go, alright?” She says and he nods with a sniffle.

“Ok, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She says, and offers him a smile. “I’ll check in on you later.”

* * *

Dr. Jones, understandably, isn’t too thrilled after having caught the news over her lunch break.

“It was my last mission.” She insists, even if she isn’t sure whether she’s serious or just trying to appease the other women. “And I wouldn’t have gone if we thought there was actually a threat.”

“There was a man on fire.”

“He wasn’t attacking.” She says, “He wanted to be put out, so I put him out.”

Jones rolls her eyes, and goes back to her charts. They’ve already gotten the basic exam out of the way, all that’s left is the ultrasound.

“Well it better have been your last mission.” She mutters to herself, “Because from what I can see here you’re progressing normally, which means so long as you don’t put yourself in any more danger, you should have a healthy baby here within the next five months.”

She rolls her eyes this time, and tries to hide any visible reaction to that statement other than annoyance.

Five months.

It’s not like she was unaware coming in here that she’s four months along, a week over in fact, but saying it like that had her in the mindset that she’s still a bit early on. Hearing it as in five months the baby will be here, she feels like there’s no time at all.

Dr. Jones turning on the ultrasound machine brings her back to the present situation, which arguably is as terrifying as her thoughts, but she swallows that back and rolls up her shirt and lies down.

Dr. Jones squeezes the gel onto her stomach and presses the wand firm against her skin. She shifts slightly under the pressure of it, her eyes on the screen as the familiar black and grey comes into focus.

Or, maybe not so familiar.

She knew coming into this that the baby would be much bigger this time around, she wasn’t showing at all at the last appointment and now her stomach is almost rounded further out than her chest.

Last time the baby looked more like a cluster of little blips on the screen, this time it’s front and center and fits comfortably in the frame.

And it’s _moving._

Not much, really it might only be the screen, but she could swear she saw it’s little head tilt to one side.

Dr. Jones, on the other hand, doesn’t look very excited about it.

“Is everything ok?” She asks, the panic in her system heightening when the doctor keeps her frown in place as she looks to her, and then back to the screen.

“Possibly.” She answers, though it isn’t much of an answer.

“Possibly?”

“Well, there’s a small break here between two of the vertebrae in the baby’s lower spine.” She explains, pointing at a space so thin Frost really doesn’t see what she’s supposed to be looking at, but she doesn’t voice that.

“It can be a sign of spina bifidia, a birth defect that’s common in babies born to mother’s who were exposed to excessive heat; especially during the first trimester.”

Or baby’s who were subjected to the wrong temperature during that time.

“But.” Dr. Jones continues before Frost can properly panic. “This is a very, very small break, especially when we take into account the baby spent nearly the entire first trimester in a body too hot for it.”

“So what?” She Frost asks bitterly, a threat of panic evident in both her voice as well as her eyes. “Kid has a broken back and I’m supposed to be grateful?”

“Of course not.” Dr. Jones assures her, “However, given the circumstances, I would expect this to be much more sever, but it isn’t. Your healing abilities stopped the miscarriage before it started; it’s possible that your powers are slowly healing this too. That, or even the baby’s own powers.”

She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say to that.

It’s another confirmation that the kid is like her, maybe. In any case she is thankful for it, truly, but at the same time she can’t help but wonder about what if it’s wrong. Maybe powers, hers or it’s, are doing jack shit for the kid. Maybe it just got lucky with such a small break, or maybe the severity is worse and can’t be seen yet because it’s still early.

“What does it mean for the kid if it doesn’t get better?” She asks, and the doctor takes another long look at the screen, and Frost can’t help but fear she’s about to be told it’ll be fatal in the end, or at least excruciatingly painful.

“Judging by the size and placement of the gap, it could be possible that they won’t be able to walk.” She says, and Frost swears her heart free falls right out of her body.

“I want to be clear.” Jones continues, sternly. “That is a worse-case scenario. It’s more likely that your child will still be able to walk with the use of a walker or crutches, possibly even only a cane.”

She nods and tries to blink back the tears, which she does not succeed in judging by the look on Dr. Jones’ face.

She goes on again with trying to remind her that, given her meta-abilities, the chances are still more likely that the break will heal and everything will be fine. She wants to believe that, she really does.

But she can’t stop thinking about what if it doesn’t?


	12. The Space Between

Dr. Jones has her make an appointment for two weeks out so they can check on the break and if it’s healing or not. She also says they might be able to get the gender of the baby then, since it wasn’t facing the right way today. As if the baby being a boy or a girl is at the front of her mind after all that.

She makes it through the rest of the appointment and out of the office with a stoic face; one Dr. Jones quickly gives up on trying to ease.

When she makes it back to her car, Caity’s car, whatever, she sighs and leans her head back and shutters. She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, and soon that elbow falls against the windowsill and her head rests heavy in her hand. As she brings her other hand to splay over the small bump of her stomach her eye squeeze tighter and her shoulders start to shake as the tears come on.

She keeps her sobs low, not letting herself have a full on meltdown of screaming and cursing and whatnot. No. Things could still get better. If she’s lucky the baby could still be ok.

When she knows for certain it’s not, that will be when she allows herself to lose it.

For now she gasps and pushes back what’s left of her tears and wipes her eyes. Soon as she turns the key the radio comes to life, the speakers emitting the familiar melody of _Livin’ on a Prayer _and she nearly punches it when she turns it off, one last sob escaping her control as she does.

“Ok.” She whispers to herself, wiping her eyes again. “Come on, it’s alright. The baby might be ok, but it won’t be if you get in an accident going home because you were too busy crying.”

She shutters again, wipes her eyes yet again, and this time trails that hand up into her hair where she pushes back the bulk of it.

“Caity.” She whispers, “Caity if you can hear me, I could really use you right now.”

Nothing.

And that does her in.

She sinks lower in her seat and her body rocks with the sob that comes out.

“Caity please.” She begs into the void, “Please. Please I need you. Please. Please, please, please.”

Nothing.

She keeps crying, until she has nothing left to cry, and all the while Caity’s voice never once responds.

Eventually she straightens up and dries her eyes, mostly, and with a deep breath she tries to think of something, anything, else.

Her mind lands on Isaiah.

She promised she would check in on him after her appointment, and he has problems of his own that need dealing with. That’s good, for her anyway. She can focus on his problems.

She repeats that in her mind like a mantra as she shifts the car into reverse and starts out of the parking lot, and then as she drives all the way back to S.T.A.R. Labs. By the time she gets back it’s late in the afternoon, she wonders if he’ll even still be here. She doesn’t let that thought go far, she can’t; it’s all she’s holding onto right now.

The lab is quiet as she walks down the hallway to the cortex, and when she arrives a quiet sigh makes it past her lips. Cisco is the only one to be seen, and he sees her. His eyes go through their usual glimmer of weariness before he returns to his work and she has to steel herself before she says anything. She’s not in the mental space to deal with his distrust right now.

“Where’s Isaiah?”

“In the longue with Ralph.” He answers while he scribbles one last note onto whatever he’s writing before he turns in his chair and she can see that his face is long and tired, great. “Turns out he’s kind of like you.”

She arches her eyebrow.

“Like me?”

“He’s not a traditional meta.” He clarifies, “That’s why the cure didn’t work. But he’s also not like you. For one thing, his powers are just that; powers. They don’t come with a second personality; it’s just him. For another thing, you and Caitlin both have DNA patterns that are consistent with those of normal humans. But him… I’ve never seen anything like the patterns I’m seeing with him.”

She folds her arms over herself, and they come in contact with her protruding stomach but she doesn’t let herself dwell on that. She wanted a distraction, and this is beyond living up to that need.

“So what?” She asks, “He’s an alien?”

She’s only half serious, but Cisco’s face on the other hand, is much more than that.

“I think partially.”

Well shit.

“He said he was at the courthouse looking for his stepdad, he’s a judge, but they told him he had gone home early.”

“And let me guess.” She drawls, “He’d already checked home?”

He nods, slow and regretful.  
“Place was ransacked. Moms missing too.”

Shit.

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, one hand running through her hair not unlike before as she tries to get her thoughts together.

“Anyway,” Cisco continues after a few seconds, “He’s probably gonna stay here tonight. Ralph’s going through some stuff with him, see if they can find some clue as to what happened.”

She nods, her mind still wrapping around everything, but it’s easier to digest knowing that something is being done already.

“So, on a lighter note, how was the appointment?”

She scowls, her whole body freezing as her brain processes the question. She groans, and that very clearly puts Cisco more on edge than anything else he’s seen so far today.

“What?” He asks, standing from his chair. “Is everything ok?”

In a perfect world, she would break down right now.

In a perfect world she wouldn’t have so much pride, her and Cisco wouldn’t have this… this… this tension, this unease, whatever it is, around each other; not so much that she couldn’t dissolve into a mess of tears and plow herself into his arms anyway. In a perfect world he wouldn’t hesitate to hold her – just like he wouldn’t hesitate to hold Caity – and tell her that everything is going to be ok.

But this isn’t a perfect world.

“Fine.” She snarls, “Except I was too much of a coward to be out during the first couple weeks of this, and so Caity was carrying the baby and she was too warm, so the kid’s spine didn’t form right and now they might not be able to walk!”

It shouldn’t surprise her that some more tears have leaked out, but she still swipes at them quick, meanwhile Cisco is staring at her, and that’s all she needs right now.

“Shit.” He eventually whispers, and she sniffles.

“It’s fine.” She mumbles, “The doctor says my powers might heal it, apparently it should be worse, so she’s going to check again in two weeks.”

Cisco breathes out a sigh of relief at that, but all she does is sniffle. She supposes relief is what she should feel, but she doesn’t.

“Ok.” He says, “Ok, that’s good. Isn’t it?”

She shrugs.

“I guess.” She says, and ok, it _is _good. It’s fantastic, or at least that’s what Dr. Jones and now Cisco keep telling her, and logically she knows it.

But, nevertheless, she pulls over a chair and sinks down into it with her head bowed.

“Still, if I had just dealt with it when we found out it might not have happened. God, the kid’s not even here yet and I almost paralyzed it.”

“Hey.” Cisco says, with more bark than she would expect from anyone dealing with something like this. When she looks up at him his face is all business, stern and serious.

“This is not your fault.” He tells her, “You couldn’t have known-”

“I should’ve.” She argues; even if it sounds a little ridiculous to her own hears. “Caity told me the kid would only belong to one of us, and I’m the one who did the deed.”

“That’s not how it works.” He snaps; pulling his chair directly across from hers and sitting down so close their knees are touching. “I may not be an expert on pregnancy, but I know it can take time to, you know, take. It could’ve happened while Caitlin was out, and then what would you being out have done? It might have frozen the baby.”

She scoffs and leans back, straightening one leg until she no longer feels the solid touch of his.

“Great.” She mutters, “You’re right. So far I’m a liability to the kid either way.”

“That’s not what I said, and you know it.”

“Whatever.” She deflects, because she does know it. But... But…

“I don’t know what I’m doing at all.” She blurts out, sardonically, and so she scowls despite herself.

“I don’t have any maternal instinct or whatever. How could I? I’m not even a real person.”

“Hey!” He snaps, borderline yells actually. “I know you’re upset, but that doesn’t mean you get to go talking about yourself like that, ok? You are a real person.”

“I’m a defense mechanism-”

“Your _powers_ are a defense mechanism.” He insists, his face deadly serious. “Not you.”

“Same thing.” She argues, hoping her voice doesn’t sound all that dejected, even though she knows it does. “You said it yourself, I’m just some second personality that came with the powers.”

She doesn’t know how exactly she is expecting him to respond to that. Yell at her some more seems the most likely, but it isn’t what he does. He looks like he wants to, badly, but he instead closes his eyes and inhales a deep, deep breath before opening them again and not looking at her.

“I said that _Isaiah’s _powers didn’t come with a second personality.” He says with this sick, fed up grin on his face. His voice is shaking; in fact _he _is shaking. From his trembling hands to his twitching feet and his shuttering chest. He’s holding his hands up like he’s envisioning strangling her between them, maybe he is.

“When the powers came out, you came with them. That was three years ago. Now we know more about you, we know the powers are yours and not Caitlin’s.”

He leans back in his chair, the wide smile still on his face.

“You want to call yourself a second personality?” And the smile’s gone, replaced by a serious face that puts so much guilt in her it makes her gut twist. “Fine. Then that’s what Caitlin is too.”

“What?”

“Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”  
She rolls her eyes, and entertains the fantasy of strangling him for all of two seconds.

“You and Caitlin are stuck together in that body, at least for the next five months. So, for that time, you’re each other’s second-”

“Oh cut the crap!” She snaps, and maybe it is a little out of nowhere, but God she can’t take this anymore. She can’t sit here and listen to him try and make her feel better, not when she knows he wishes she weren’t even here.

“I’m second to Caitlin.” She insists, no room for argument. “I’m the parasite that took over her body and went to work for Savitar, and tried to kill Barry, and-”

“And had my back in the field more times than I can count.” He interrupts her, and he leans forward again, though not close enough to touch.

“And who has taken over to save Caitlin and countless others more times than to save yourself, and saved a kid today.”

She’s quiet for a moment, damn him for throwing the hero work in her face. She eventually finds herself leaning forward again as well, much like him, their knees touching again.

“Doesn’t matter.” She mumbles, avoiding his eyes. “That isn’t what you see when you look at me.”

When he doesn’t respond she makes herself look up at him, and she instantly wishes she could take the words back.

He looks… confused.

“What do you see?” He asks, and she arches an eyebrow. She knows the look on his face, puzzle pieces clicking together in his mind, only she doesn’t know what the puzzle is.

Yet, she has a creeping feeling that it’s her.

“When you look in the mirror.” He prompts her again, “_What_ do you see?”

She doesn’t answer; she doesn’t have an answer.

“Do you see all that bad?” He asks, “Or, is that what you think you’re supposed to see?”

“What?”

He sighs, and leans so his elbows are resting on his legs, his chin in his hand.

“When I look at you.” He finally says, “I miss Caitlin, and I know that when you’re here, it means I can’t see her.”

Huh, she never thought she’d get that out of him.

“But I don’t see evil.”

He gives her a moment to process that, maybe respond to it even, but she doesn’t.

“I know it’s scary when you don’t like the label you’ve been given all your life, and you keep comparing yourself to it. But you need to know that when I look at you I don’t see Killer Frost, and I don’t see Icicle’s daughter, either. All I see is Crystal.”

It’s quiet. Very, very quiet, as she thinks through that and she almost wants to start crying again - damn hormones. Instead, however, she swallows back the tears, and follows her mind to it’s next logical thought.

“Is that why you took the cure?”

It’s his turn to look completely and totally lost, clearly he wasn’t expecting that jump.

“I’ve spent a lot of time in Caity’s head.” She starts her explanation, “I know you weren’t the favorite child growing up, it was always your brother. You worked here, hard, until you were Wells’ right hand man.”

He still seems lost, and somehow that boosts her confidence.

“You were labeled - your word - as the guy in the background. You wanted people to see you, and recognize the things you did, but once you got that you didn’t know what to do with it. So you took the cure, since Vibe was your biggest spotlight.”

He’s still quiet. Thoughtful looking, not to mention shocked, before he finally picks his jaw back up and like a switch has been flipped he leans back in his chair with almost an air of casualness.

Almost.

“Damn girl, maybe you should be a psychologist.”

She snorts; it’s a nice break in the heavy tension that feels like it’s been weighing so much longer than this conversation; maybe it has.

“Seriously though,” He says, “You are a person, and no matter if your kid has some problems or not you’re going to be a kickass mom.”

She smirks, and she isn’t sure if she totally believes him. She’s pretty sure she doesn’t but, well, he seems to, and for now maybe that’s enough.


	13. The Case of the Missing Kids

Frost is almost entirely convinced that the reason Cisco declares they should all go bowling after work - and Ralph agrees before he’s even finished the suggestion - is because yesterday was far too much of a day.

Between Isaiah’s whole situation, her less-than-great doctor’s appointment, and not even to mention the clearing of the air with Cisco, the three of them at least need to breathe, and Barry and Iris are always happy to tag along.

Bowling is… She hates bowling. She learns that about herself. Ok, the reality is more like she hates losing, and she is getting pummeled. Nearly everyone tries to give her little tips, and she’s sure a few of Ralph’s strikes were not accidental, but no matter what they try she hits gutter after gutter.

“Maybe we should ask them to put up the bumpers.” Barry drawls thoughtfully as she walks away from yet another untouched set of pins.

She shakes her heads and flops into the hard plastic chair, which is ridiculously uncomfortable but whatever.

Isaiah is up next. He stayed with Barry and Iris last night and the plan is for that to continue tonight, but Joe says that if they don’t find his parents soon he’s going to have to be placed into a foster home.

She pushes that thought out of her mind; she’ll come back to it tomorrow. Tonight is supposed to be fun. Even if she keeps getting gutter balls, it is supposed to be fun.

Barry, for all his athletic incapability on the softball field, gets a spare on his next two turns and comes in second at the end of the game; only a few points behind Iris.

They decide to hit up the attached arcade after the game, and by the time she gets her game card Frost finds that Ralph is the only of her friends still in the general area of the counter.

“What are you waiting for?” She asks, and he smirks at her.

“Do you actually know how to play any of these games?”

She pauses, and thinks. True, she never has been to an arcade before, but she shrugs anyway.

“Most of them seem self-explanatory enough.”

Ralph chuckles, his wordless way of conceding to her point, but she walks around with him anyway.

Turns out not all of the games are so self-explanatory. Most of them yes, but not all. There are some where you get a handful of tokens and drop them down into a growing tray of tokens in the game, with a little platform slowly inching them closer to the ledge. She’s not sure what exactly you get if you win one of those, only that it’s a good thing if you knock them off the ledge. Then there’s Space Invaders and Pac Man, which are both fun but don’t dispense tickets; she couldn’t spend the whole night playing them like Cisco.

The giant claw machine is hilarious.

She’s tried a smaller version already, she sucked at it, but Ralph is downright horrible.

“You didn’t even come close to anything!” She laughs as the claw rises empty-handed, for the fourth time in a row. “How is that possible? It’s a sea of stuffed animals!”

Ralph looks both unimpressed and amused by her mocking in equal measure.

“Alright smartass, you try.”

She scoffs, “Oh, I didn’t say I could win.” She says, even as she steps up to the joystick and swipes her card. “But I could at least land on something.”

“Mmhmm.” Ralph hums, still unimpressed.

She’s still snickering about it as she moves the claw over to the right, then to the back. Frankly she isn’t actually aiming for anything, so she goes as far into the corner as it will let her and then drops the claw. It lands on a grey lump, revealed to be an elephant as the claw brings it up an inch. She waits for it to slip, knowing it will, except it never does.

It rises out of the mass of loosely packed toys to her amazement, on the track to the prize shoot and hardly wavering.

“Huh.” Ralph remarks from behind her. “Beginners luck.”

She’s trying to think of some kind of comment to shoot back at him, but then the lights on the machine start blinking and an excited robotic voice calls out “winner”, and she actually has a reason to crouch down and push back the flap on the prize door.

She pulls out the toy, which is floppy and slouched but well close to two feet tall, and soft to the touch. She holds it in front of herself to get a look at it; it’s legs straddling right under the curve of her stomach and it’s head flops back so she moves one hand to hold that up.

What is she supposed to do with this?

“Hey, looks like you’ve got your first nursery decoration.” Ralph says as though he’s reading her thoughts, and unlike her he has a solution.

She hasn’t thought about anything really in terms of things for the baby yet, though she probably should get started on that soon.

Of course that is a whole other can of worms she doesn’t want to open just yet, so she follows Ralph over to a game where you drop a ball into a hole for tickets, and laughs when he only wins two.

* * *

She spends the next few days looking for Isaiah’s parents more than anything else. She and Ralph go through all of their phone records, talk to their friends as well as co-workers. So far no leads, and Ralph suggests one day that maybe his biological father came back to town and things went bad, which is certainly possible, except Cisco is convinced his father is an alien and that him coming back to town would involve a spaceship.

So she starts looking around at reports of alien sightings. She wants to dismiss all of them as insane ramblings, not a single one sounds coherent, but she has to follow up on something.

So she picks one that comes from a man swearing left and right he saw an alien tractor beam early last month, and only because it overlaps with a missing person’s report of a teenage girl and her mother.

The man lives way on the outskirts of the city, on one of the farms and there is no way this can be legit. This is straight out of a movie; crazy old farmer sees a U.F.O. and his neighbors go missing. Of course, in those movies the aliens usually do turn out to be real so, she supposes this is still worth a look.

That doesn’t mean there isn’t bubbling feeling of nerves in her stomach.

She locks the car and walks up the creaky wooden steps of the front porch, well aware of the jerking movement of a curtain. She’s been seen, but that’s fine, she didn’t come here trying to be subtle.

She only has to knock once on the door before it swings open surprisingly fast for how much it creaks, revealing a bent over old man with a scraggly grey beard and a studying look in his eyes.

He looks her up and down, and she doesn’t really feel scrutinized under his gaze like she’s sure he’s going for, but she does feel some pity for him so she waits as he looks her over.

“You don’t look like a cop.” He eventually remarks, to which she huffs.

“I’m not.”

“Then what do you want?”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m looking into the disappearance of your neighbors.”

“Why?”

Oh for crying out loud.

“I have a kid back in my office about to be sent into foster care because his parents vanished into thin air, I’d like to at least find a lead for him.”

The old man scoffs, even starts to laugh.

“You won’t find it here.” He chuckles, “My neighbors weren’t taken by some serial killer or nothing like that. Some aliens came and took them in their space ship.”

This is a colossal waste of time.

“Who’s to say they stopped with them?”

The old man blinks at her, his mouth agape, and then that gape stretches into a sly smile.

“I like you.” He drawls, waving a finger at her. “Come on in, I’ll tell you all about it.”

Turns out there isn’t much for him to tell. His neighbors, Nicole Monetti and her daughter Toni, aren’t incredibly close with him. Looking around his living room at all the rifles and hunting “prizes” mounted to the walls she doesn’t have a hard time imagining why. He explains to her that he had been returning from one of his hunting trips last month and just turned onto the dirt road when he saw a light in the sky, like a searchlight, beaming down in the Monetti’s backyard. It was gone quick as it came, so he didn’t investigate. But he didn’t see Toni get on the school bus the next day, or the day after, and the next thing he knew there were cops next door and they were asking him if he knew where Toni and Nicole might have gone.

There could be a hundred other explanations for their disappearance, including it not being a kidnapping at all. But the old man ends with one comment that Frost just can’t shake.

“You know, Toni just turned sixteen. She’d be driving herself to school soon. If this had happened even a week later, I might not have noticed.”

Although she’s sure that isn’t entirely how a kid getting their license works, that isn’t the point. The point is Toni apparently just had a birthday, and thanks to Ralph they’re able to confirm that. She turned sixteen two days before she disappeared, and they’ve seen Isaiah’s file already; he turned sixteen only a day before Toni.

“So their birthdays are close.” Ralph says while the two of them are holed up in his office, looking over those two as well as some other missing person’s files. “It’s Isaiah’s parents who are missing, not Isaiah.”

True.

“I know.” She says, trying to focus more on the problem at hand rather than the return of the anxiety bubbling in her stomach.

Which, oddly enough, stops after a few seconds, but she doesn’t feel all that anxious so she lets it go.

“But there’s two more reports of missing sixteen-year-olds, both with recent birthdays, and these two have meta abilities.”

Ralph leans forward, interested, and takes the file from her.

“Yeah.” He drawls, thoughtfully with his brow scrunched. “One of them was reported missing by his mom. The other by his mom’s fiancé, and the mom is missing too.”

He stops there and looks at the file for a few seconds longer, as if to make sure he’s reading it right, and then he looks back to her.

“All these kids are the kids of single moms.”

“And they were born around the same time.” She reminds him, and even though he knows she’s right he looks back to the file to confirm.

“Now their sperm donors are coming back for them.” He whispers, and he looks up at her with horror in his eyes.

“They’re gonna come back for Isaiah.”

* * *

For the record, Frost does not for one second blame Joe West for looking at her and Ralph like they have completely lost their minds when they show up at the police station telling him that he needs to get Isaiah moved into protective custody because they think he is the target of an impending alien abduction.

But, the glimmer of resigned belief in his eyes makes her hopeful.

“Joe, we know aliens exist. You’ve fought them.” Ralph tries to convince him, which of course has Joe looking both ways despite them being in his office.

“Do you think this kid’s dad is a Dominator?”

“No.” She answers before Ralph can.

“Then you don’t have proof.” Joe says quickly. “Look, guys, as crazy as your theory is, and it’s out there, it makes more sense than any other idea we’ve come up with in terms of these cases. But Isaiah’s parents disappeared at some point during the day while he was at school, halfway across town. There is no evidence to suggest he was the intended target of whatever happened to them.”

He does look sorry, maybe more so than Frost has seen him in a long time. He believes them, he wants to order someone to protect Isaiah, but…

“I can’t justify moving him out of a foster home.” He says, apologetically. “But if it makes you feel any better, the one he’s in now is run by good people, who have seen cases of angry parents trying to take their kids, and they know what to do.”

That doesn’t make her feel as reassured as she would like, but she accepts it, and Ralph does too, so they leave the station and get back into his car in defeat.

“Well that was a bust.” Ralph sighs as he closes the driver’s side door.

“Yep.” She huffs, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes.

They sit there in quiet for a few seconds, and then with another sigh Ralph shifts the car into drive and they start back for the office to get her car.

She opens her eyes around the time he puts the radio on, letting the beat of “today’s hits” fill the car at a low volume. She knows he only has it on for her benefit; he’d hurried to change it from the country station when they first got in the car to go to the station. Months ago that would’ve surprised her, but now that she knows him better, she’s learning there is never anything that one should put past the enigma that is Ralph Dibny.

She leans forward and turns the dial until the music turns back to a song about “knocking boots” or something like that, not her cup of tea but Ralph has a tiny smile on his face now, so it’s worth it.

Then, suddenly, the music is the furthest thing from her mind.

She frowns, considering the feeling comes on so fast. One second she’s totally fine, a little frustrated but otherwise fine, and now…

She’s wanted things before. Both before and after getting pregnant, she’s had the sudden desire for a cookie or a burger or something wash over her. She never knew if those were considered cravings or not, now she knows they weren’t because what she’s feeling now doesn’t even come close to comparing.

She prides herself on being a fairly low-maintenance person, but she is seriously considering asking Ralph to make a pit stop at the grocery store. He would do it too, which is all the more reason for her to consider it.

_No. _She tells herself. She will not be THAT person. At the very least, what she wants right now is freaking disgusting; she’s surprised the mere thought isn’t turning her stomach.

Well, it is, but not in a bad way.

She runs a hand over her stomach, like _that _is going to take away her rapidly increasing need for a repulsive concoction.

_Relax. _She snarls inwardly, _Just a few more blocks and then you can get in Caity’s car ALONE and drive right-_

“Are you ok?”

Crap.

They’re at a red light, she’s been quiet for most of the ride already and of course Ralph has noticed that she is now rubbing a hand along her stomach, which is currently housing the kid she’s been stressed about more than usual lately, and stress certainly isn’t good for either her or it.

God, she really is going to screw this kid up one way or another.

Whatever, other pressing matters at the moment.

“I’m fine.” She insists, curtly, but even she knows her scowl is extremely visible when something in her stomach lurches as if in protest to her resistance.

Ralph, unsurprisingly, very clearly doesn’t believe her and, you know, this light is a right on red and if they turn down this street they’ll come out near a gas station, which probably has what she wants.

“I’m fine.” She repeats, much more resigned to her fate this time, and she forces herself to look at him. “But… do you think we could make a pit stop?”

* * *

Ralph doesn’t dare comment on it when she asks him to take the turn and stop at the next gas station because she “needs something”. He’s worried, understandably, but not so much that he tries to go in with her when she gets out of the car.

Instead he gets gas, he needs some, and lets his mind wander back to the case and the possibility that Isaiah is being hunted by his alien father.

You know, just another day in the life of Team Flash.

When Frost comes back out, however, his mind reels back to her sudden need to come here and his eyes go to her hands. She has a bag, one that looks almost heavy, and that is almost a bigger mystery than this whole missing kids and mothers thing.

She walks right up to him, looks him dead in the eye, and he really wishes she hadn’t done that because then he might have the nerve to let his curiosity do it’s thing and look down into her bag.

“I’m gonna eat in your car.”

“Uh…”

She doesn’t say anything else, just gets back into his passenger seat. He doesn’t, for the record, actually care if she eats in his car. He’s certainly never been known for his cleanliness, and his car is still a bit of a relic from his less-than-stellar days. It can take a grease stain or two.

When he eventually gets back in the car, however, he can see why she warned him.

Her bag had exactly three contents: a pickle jar that is currently settled snugly between her thighs, a roll of paper towels that is now resting next to her, and a package of bologna that is balance on her knee.

She has one paper towel over the open top of the pickle jar and is using another to wipe down a pickle spear in her hand.

She looks at him, for a long second, so he must be staring.

“Do you want me to make a mess?” She asks; eyebrow raised.

His phone could not have picked a better time to ring.

He grabs it from the cup holder before it’s even gone through one tone, the screen lit up with Joe’s I.D.


	14. Scattered Pieces

Isaiah is gone.

In the middle of the night, no one saw anything.

The only reason they find out soon as they do is because one of the other foster kids in the house swore she saw something flash outside her window, and when she couldn’t see properly around the corner of the house she went to sneak into Isaiah’s room for a peek. His window was open, his backpack with all his belongings was still there by the bed, but he was gone.

Frost spends most of the night tossing and turning. Joe has promised to keep her and Ralph in the loop with Isaiah’s case but they all know there won’t likely be any breakthroughs; not if this really is what they think it is.

She keeps telling herself there is nothing that can be done right now and so she needs to go to sleep, except around one a.m. she suddenly realizes that there _is _something she can do about this right now and she bolts upright.

She sits there a second, running the idea through her head, making sure it’ll work.

It should, and if it doesn’t, she doesn’t have all that much to lose.

She gets up quick and grabs a sweatshirt, rushing through the apartment and stopping again only to shove her sneakers on her feet and grab the car keys. At the back of her mind she notes that the shoes feel the tiniest bit snug, but she rolls her eyes and chooses to deal with that later. Bigger problems, as usual.

There are hardly any other cars on the road at this hour and she makes it to S.T.A.R. Labs in record time, and after punching in Caity’s I.D. code she hurries inside and down to the basement level. She marches down the familiar halls to the time vault and lets herself in. The room lights up the second she walks in, but even so she feels like the lights get brighter when she places her hand on the scanner at the front, as if the A.I. were waiting for confirmation that this is a visit.

“Good morning, Crystal Snow.” She says, and Frost almost wants to snicker, wondering absently who took the time to update that information. “It is rather early for you, or anyone, to be in here. Is everything alright?”

“Not really.” She scoffs, “I need you to hail The Waverider, tell them we need their help and it’s urgent.”

“Of course.”

She smiles, excitement bubbling inside of her at the prospect that maybe this will work. Some of that is probably nerves, too, as she isn’t so excited about the idea of seeing Mick again. But it’s bound to happen eventually, and now is probably about as good a time as any. Better now, in fact, when there’s a problem and a fight to focus on rather than it being happier, more normal circumstances.

She texts the rest of the team as she leaves the vault for the cortex, letting them know that she has a plan to find the missing kids and their parents, and that they should get to S.T.A.R. Labs as soon as they can.

The replies she gets go in the following order.

_Cisco: On my way_

_Ralph: Coming_

And Barry and Iris are speeding into the cortex just as she arrives.

“What’ve you got?” Barry asks, setting Iris on her feet.

* * *

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Mick huffs at Sara’s words coming from behind him, some days he can’t believe she’s let him live this long without talking about it.

He’s got all sorts of… ugh, feelings, about letting Frost walk away. He should’ve said something else, but what could he have said? He’s not cut out to be a parent, and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna screw up a kid by trying. If she wants to then that’s her business, she’s probably got a better shot than he would anyway.

“I’m coming.” He says, getting up from his stool and when he turns Haircut is standing there with Sara, and Mick swears he’s looking at him like he’s a ticking bomb.

Maybe he is.

He keeps quiet as the three of them leave the ship, lost in his head and while he hears Haircut asking Sara what this might be about - and he’s not dumb enough to miss the glance back at him - he ignores it. Whatever this is, it can’t be about his kid. The message had said Team Flash needs help, and now that the cats out of the bag in terms of the kid he doesn’t think Frost would’ve bothered lying if it were really just something with her.

Still, the fear is there in the back of his mind.

When they get to the cortex the whole team Flash is standing there, which puts his mind at ease, because that means this is _definitely _a business call. She’s there too, of course, standing next to Ramon’s chair in an old New York City hoodie with her arms folded across her chest.

She knows he’s looking at her, and when he finally drags his eyes off her midsection and up to hers they’re cold but permissible. She gets that he’s curious, doesn’t mean she wants to talk about it right here and now.

“Ok.” Sara says, “What’s going on?”

“Short version?” Frost is the one to speak up, and yeah she had been the one to call them in the first place, but it’s still kind of a surprise to him. “We’ve got a string of missing teenagers and moms. Three of those teens have powers but the meta cure didn’t work on the one we tried giving it to.”

That’s when Ramon straightens up, and that’s the final straw it takes for Mick to take his focus off of Frost for now and put it into the game. When Ramon looks worried as he does now, it means they’re already in over their heads.

“We thinks they’re aliens.”

Aliens. Again. Great.

* * *

Upon boarding the Waverider Frost makes a b-line for the library. Logically she knew calling the Legends would involve seeing Mick, and she told herself that while she isn’t thrilled about it she could more than handle it.

Turns out she was wrong.

The second he walked into the cortex, it was like every emotion she has in her flooded her entire system in one huge mismatched tidal wave.

She was pissed to see him because fuck him for not wanting their baby and letting her walk away without even the most pathetic of a fight.

Then she was excited to see him, which makes NO sense because seriously, fuck him, but… well speaking of fuck him…

She shakes her head and flips the page in her book. This is insane, she has barely thought about him since she told him about the baby and he made his stance on parenting very clear. True, there probably wouldn’t be too much harm in asking him for another hook up while she’s here, and considering all he’s putting her through he definitely owes her at least that. But, at the same time it doesn’t feel right, and she’s far enough past the point of being all consumed by her erotic hormones that she can tell herself it won’t be worth it and she can deal with any lingering “desires” later.

“Hey.”

Oh fuck.

She glances over her shoulder at him in the doorway. Her emotions rock inside of her yet again, this time flying from the daydream of crawling back in his bed to a childish hope that maybe he’s come here to talk. A prayer that he’s about to tell her he’s sorry and he just needed time to sort out his thoughts - she could understand that - and he wants to come home with her and try raising their baby together. That he wants her and the baby both.

She forces herself to squash the thought.

“Hey.” She returns, voice nonchalant and giving no hints as to the whirlwind going on inside her head.

She turns back to her book as he takes a slow, awkward step into the room.

“How ya doing?”

She wants to snort, or maybe scowl, but she keeps her face carefully blank and turned down to the pages detailing various genuses of aliens.

“Alright.” She answers with a shrug. “Morning sickness pretty much stopped.”

He hums, and she thinks it’s a hum of approval, so she forces herself to crush down the hope that he actually cares.

Ok, maybe he does care. At the very least maybe he feels guilty for putting her in this situation where she’s been sick and is gaining weight and all the other crap she knows she’s going to go through over the next few months.

But he doesn’t care enough to want to try and be a dad, she has to remember that.

“Good.” He says, “Fainting stopped too?”

That catches her so off guard she stops even pretending to focus on the book. She scrunches her face, knitting her eyebrows together as she tries to understand…

_“Yeah, turns out that’s an issue with me.”_

_“Well, if it’s the kid’s fault, got something here that’ll take care of it.”_

Just the thought of that conversation, of what he’d had for her, is enough to make her want to vomit. But it’s also a reminder that she never actually explained to him that her fainting hadn’t really been a direct result of her pregnancy, more like indirect.

“I’ve gotten a handle on it.” She says, “It was anxiety, and lately it’s been more like an upset stomach, but not… exactly. I don’t know it’s hard to explain. Butterflies I guess.”

He doesn’t look like he totally gets it, but she doesn’t need him to. So she turns back to the book, or she starts to anyway.

“You’re nervous?”

She shuts her book with a scoff.

“More like terrified.” She says, finally turning to face him properly. “Five months ago I barely had a life of my own. I lived in Caity’s head. Now I have to take care of not only myself but a baby too, how am I supposed to do that?”

She catches the threat of tears behind her eyes, brought on by the rage starting to boil in her veins. How dare he ask if she’s nervous.

She gives him one long, lingering, look, and then opens the book again.

“And of all people, why am I asking you?”

He’s quiet. For a long, long moment that stretches out, until the sound of something finally punctuates the silence.

And that sound, for the record, is that of his boots slowly clunking away.

* * *

After spending a few hours on The Waverider going through both Gideon’s database as well as every book Rip Hunter ever collected on other worlds, Ralph realizes that he hasn’t seen Frost pretty much since they came on board. So he decides to stretch his legs, and if he finds her along the way so be it.

He already knows she isn’t in the library; he’s made a few trips there for books and not crossed her path. He wanders through the ship’s kitchen but she isn’t there, and according to Zari and Behrad she hasn’t been through. It’s not like he’s actually worried that she seems to have vanished into some nook or cranny somewhere, or at least, he isn’t until he does find her and he feels her before he sees her, in a manner of speaking.

He’s down on the lower level of the ship, and the closer he draws to the first door the colder the air around him starts to feel. He can see his own breath, and when he pokes is head into the room it is covered from floor to ceiling with patches of ice. Storage crates are frozen in random places, and Frost is standing in the middle of it all; a partially ice incased punching bag in front of her and her eyes glowing blue.

He can’t do more than stare at her as she strikes the bag hard, but the movement turns her head enough so that she sees him.

She’s breathing heavy, exhausted from all of… whatever she’s been doing in here, and the icy vapor vanishes as she falls back into a more neutral stance and her eyes darken until they’re brown again. She looks around like she’s ashamed of herself, but frankly he’s too worried now to chide her. He’s seen her angry before, and frustrated, sad, sacred, and none of those times has she ever gone this far.

Eventually she finds it in herself to look him in the eye, her arms crossing and armor coming back on with it.

“Gideon said she can adjust the temperature to melt everything.”

He nods, “Can she start doing that now?” He can’t help asking, he wants to focus on her but it’s freezing in here.

She smirks a little but nods, and with that he hears the room’s heater hum to life. He gives that a second’s worth of examination, he’d known Gideon was perceptive and more advanced than their version in the time vault, but now he can’t help wondering just how much if she can see that nod.

He’ll have to ask about it later.

“So… what’s with the igloo?”

She laughs, quick, quiet, but more amused than he was expecting.

“Nothing. I’m good.”

“Frost, come on.” He deadpans knowingly, “You are not ‘good’. What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.” She insists, “Or at least, nothing that I haven’t already been dealing with. Nothing that should’ve warranted… this.” She gestures at all the ice around them. “With everything going on, I guess pregnancy hormones just got the better of me. Won’t happen again.”

She tries to walk past him with that, but he knows her well enough by now to know that hitch in her voice and that gleam in her eye. He knows when she’s trying to get away, and he considers letting her, but ultimately he sticks an arm out in front of her.

“Slow your roll there.” He drawls, “Now, if we’re bringing pregnancy into this, stress isn’t good for either you or the baby.” He says, and he takes his free hand and points around at the room. “And this? This looks like a whole lot of stress.”

She hesitates a moment, but he can see the decision happening inside her head in that moment. He can see her weighing the pros and cons of talking and telling him to beat it. He holds his breath the whole time, because he will resign himself to letting her go if she resists again. But, fortunately, she sighs and falls back on her heels.

“It’s Mick.”

That… That he wasn’t expecting, and he’s sure his face shows it.

She, however, is suddenly very worked up again and too much so to notice his confusion. She turns around and starts pacing the room, ice misting at her fingertips but her eyes still a deep brown and no intent in her body language to do anything with it.

“He came in the library and he asked how I’m doing, which is sweet. He cares that much, great. But you know what? I think I would rather he didn’t care at all. Why does he have to care a little bit, hmm? Why can’t he just leave well enough alone?”

“Uhh…” He drawls, but he is honestly coming up blank.

“Then he wants too know if I’m nervous! Like, what does he expect me to say!? Yes, I’m nervous, thanks for the fucking help with that! No, I’m not passing out anymore, but I still feel that butterflies- or whatever it’s called- in my stomach! Except for now, which I don’t get because I am so on edge half this room is frozen! Maybe I’m just pissed! Maybe-”

“Frost!” He finally just shouts, and thankfully she stops her rant in its tracks, her feet too, and looks at him. “What does Mick have to do with anything?”

The ice vanishes from her hands with his question, her eyes wide.

“Oh… I never told you about him, did I?”

What is that supposed to mean?

The question must be very visible on his face, because she bites at her lip and starts wringing her hands together in front of her.

“Mick… is the baby’s father.”

At first, he’s slack jawed and numb.

Then, when he starts to feel again, it is two very distinct emotions: pissed and confused.

But he doesn’t get the chance to ask even one question before Gideon informs them both that the Legends have found something.


	15. Light in the Dark

Gideon’s announcement comes as both a blessing and a torture all at once. It’s obviously great they’ve found something and might actually be able to get somewhere, which frankly is more than Frost was truly believing they would get even with the Legends’ help. But on the other hand…

On the other hand she’d forgotten she never told Ralph – or any of the team- about Mick. Of all the ways that could’ve come out even now, this is certainly less than ideal.

“Does he know?” Ralph finally asks; his expression still shocked but otherwise blank. No anger, at least not yet.

“Yeah.” She nods, “I told him when we found out about me and Caity separating. It was actually the reason I called the Legends, Caity suggested separating after.”

Somehow he looks even more surprised by that, and she can’t help feeling guilty. She should’ve told him before, she meant to, but with everything else going on it just slipped her mind, didn’t seem important.

How the hell did it not seem important?

Ralph turns on his heel then and starts in a march down the hall, and she hurries after him.

“Ralph.” She calls after him but he doesn’t respond, which worries her all the more.

She has never in her life been afraid of him, she’s sure that she never could be. But this fear that has suddenly consumed every cell in her body doesn’t feel like it’s of him, but for him. Afraid for what might be going through his head right now, afraid for what he might be thinking of her for not telling him, of what he might think of Mick for not being around between the point he found out and now. Afraid for what he might do or say when he gets to the bridge and sees Mick…

Ok, she needs to stop. This is Ralph she’s talking about, Mick could probably bench press him. He’s impulsive, but surely he isn’t stupid enough to march in there – in Mick’s home, in front of his entire team – and what? Punch him?

That mental image almost makes her feel better.

When they arrive on the bridge Ralph stops short in his tracks, but his eyes are locked on Mick. Frost pushes her way past him, ignoring the curious expression on Mick’s face aimed at Ralph.

“What did you find?” She demands, and it’s clear that she isn’t the only one noticing the stare down between Mick and Ralph, but like her, the others choose to ignore it.

Sara, fortunately, included.

“They’re called the H’San Natall.” She says, stumbling over the pronunciation. “They’re a species of shape shifters, so they could’ve taken on human forms sixteen years ago. They are also known throughout the galaxy for enslaving and dominating other worlds and, conveniently, they have a ship parked close to Earth.”

It takes Frost a minute to take the information in; it takes them all a minute, actually.

“Ok…” Cisco eventually breaks the silence. “So they’re obviously up to nothing good, but if they’re coming back for the little alien-human hybrid babies they made sixteen years ago, along with their mothers, we have no way of knowing how many of those there are.”

Sara nods, her expression stern and commanding.

“We’re gonna have to move fast.”

* * *

The plan is simple, in theory. Cisco, Barry, Ralph, Ray, and Sara will sneak aboard the H’San Natall’s ship while Mick and Charlie wait on the jump ship as back up. Meanwhile they’ll keep The Waverider hopefully far enough away to be out of the radar zone, but close enough that Iris and Zari can monitor the comms.

Frost wants to go, she almost asks, but she knows her team – if not the Legends too – would tell her it’s too dangerous.

She also knows they would be right.

She did technically tell Dr. Jones her field days are already on hold, and even if she hadn’t she is worried enough that she’s already screwed up the baby beyond repair and that is more than enough to keep her put on the ship.

Doesn’t mean she’s happy about it.

At this point she’s back in the cargo bay, which is only half thawed and dripping with water that Gideon has assured her she can dry. She can’t stay still so she’s pacing, but she is very decidedly not refreezing anything. She keeps one hand on her stomach like it’s a lifeline, and in truth it pretty much is. The baby is like an anchor, the only thing keeping her from flying off the handle completely. Yet at the same time it feels like an anchor to her problems as well as the rest the world and she almost wishes she could forget about it. She’s screwed up so much already, would it really be too much to ask that she not have to be reminded of it for even only three seconds.

Tears spring to her eyes as she rests her head against the cold metallic wall of the ship. This is normally when she would run to Ralph, ranting about how pissed she is at both the world and herself until he would finally grab her by the shoulders and tell her to calm down and focus on one thing at a time because at the very least stress is only going to make her predicament worse.

She chokes on her tears, and the sound is followed directly by a soft, broken sob. Her shoulders start to shake and she isn’t sure whether she’s laughing or crying, but whatever she’s doing she gives up any hope of concealing it when the random fluttering returns to her stomach.

“Fuck you.” She whispers, moving her hand over where she’d felt it, even if it’s gone already.

She smiles despite herself, laughs with nothing to laugh at. Nothing, that is, except for this dumpster fire that is her life.

“I’m trying, ok?” She says to no one in particular, addressing either the universe itself or nothing at all. Both sound insane, but at this point she is far past caring. “I am _trying_ not to stress. But my best friend hates me, my baby might not be able to use its legs, Mick-”

She stops.

Might.

Might.

She’s been trying not to get her hopes up for _might_, even though Dr. Jones had seemed confident in it. She couldn’t deal with the heartbreak of _might _if it turned out to be _not._

But now she feels the blossom of hope as she thinks back to being in this cargo bay earlier, feeling by far the most stressed she’s felt maybe ever, and yet there wasn’t a single sign of the anxious fluttering that in truth has been rearing it’s head not always in tune with her mind racing.

“Gideon?” She asks lowly, her voice trembling as she sniffles and her fingers grip at her side where she’d felt the sensation, almost willing to feel it again. “If I go to the med bay, can you… can you see if the baby’s moving?”

The reply is instantaneous, which makes it hard to tell if Gideon is aware of just how much her answer will mean, or if it’s only her usual promptness.

Either way, she’ll take it.

“Yes, Ms. Snow.”

She shutters and nods to herself. She wipes at her tears with one hand and forces herself to get them under control, never removing her other hand from her stomach. She sniffles and breathes deeply until she’s sure the pink flush is mostly gone from her cheeks and then, finally, she pushes herself from the wall and she marches from the cargo hold. She passes by some of the Legends, and Barry, who does try and talk to her, but she tells him that she’s busy and nothing more. She doesn’t even feel guilty over it, he’ll understand.

When she gets to the med bay she rounds the corner sharply and climbs right into the first chair. She complies with Gideon’s instruction to lie back, and then she waits.

She holds her breath, she doesn’t mean to but she does. All of her concentration is focused on her stomach, waiting for any little sign of anything. She feels normal. Fat, but otherwise normal. She doesn’t feel the roll of any nausea, or any strange bubbling of what she has been assuming to be stress. She doesn’t feel any-

“I have completed my assessment, Ms. Snow.”

She only lets out half the breath, if that.

“And?” She asks, her voice raspy from the tears.

“Your child is suffering from a mild case of spina bifida occulta. While I cannot attest to how this will affect him later in life, I am picking up movement of the legs.”

She puts the hand that is not resting over her stomach over her mouth, muffling the newest onslaught of tears as she sits up.

Her baby’s ok. Enough at least that he can use his legs, he can move, he won’t be para-

“He?” She interrupts her own thoughts with the question, Gideon’s word suddenly hitting her like a ton of bricks.

There is a lag, a long one, before the AI eventually responds.

“Yes…” She almost sounds awkward, “My apologies. I should have asked if you wanted to know-”

“It’s fine, Gideon.” She laughs; sniffling as more tears start to trickle out and a broad smile comes across her face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She laughs to herself some more, still crying, but for the first time those tears aren’t of fear or stress. They’re happy tears, and she is so caught up in them she almost doesn’t notice Ralph poke his head around the corner, mask already on and all ready to head out.

“Hey, I-” He stops himself, because of course he does, and the look of sheer panic on his face should have her feeling sorry or grateful or something but not entertained, that’s just cruel.

Still, she laughs again as he hurries to stand in front of her.

“Are you ok?” He demands, “Is everything-?”

“The baby’s kicking.” She informs him through her tears, laughing even more when his mouth gapes open.

“What?” He manages, and she nods frantically.

“Yeah.” She confirms, “Not now, but he was. He’s ok, Ralph.”

And saying it out loud, to someone else; she is so deliriously relieved and he is so close that she forgets everything. Her earlier outburst to him isn’t even in the same realm as her current mind. She forgets her pride, her usual attitude of cold exterior, all of it. She just keeps crying happy tears that rock her body forward until her head crashes into his torso, and she stays there.

“He’s ok.” She repeats, and when she feels his hands holding her waist, even ever so lightly, she hitches another breath in a happily manic laugh. “He’s ok, he’s ok.”

She hears Ralph laugh too, happy and breathless much like her, and his grip on her tightens even as she continues to rock against him.

“Wait, wait.” She hears him say, his voice in her ear, and he pulls back a little but not too much, only enough to look at her. “He?” He asks and she nods, the vision of him looming above her blurry with her tears.

“Yeah.” She says, still smiling widely. “Yeah, he.”

She may not be able to see his face clearly, but the sound he makes in unmistakable.

It’s a laugh, one of celebration, and he pulls her back into him even at the odd angle of bending down to her.

It’s less awkward this time, because he now he knows everything is more than ok and her tears are happy. He’s celebrating too, and so he squats down to be more of an equal height with her and wrap his arms around her in a proper hug. In return she snakes her own arms up and around him, holding him as tight as he’s holding her, crying happy tears into the crook of his shoulder that she swears she hears him echo once or twice.

Finally, at some point, the moment ends and he detaches himself from her and straightens up. When he does she leans back, and in that motion her eyes move past him, and land on Mick in the doorway.


	16. It Takes Two

Ralph doesn’t know Mick Rory very well, but what he does know, he doesn’t like.

He knows he’s a former criminal, and while that is far from being the most comforting thing he could still understand it; it isn’t like his own history is completely innocent. But he also knows that Mick has known about the baby for weeks and yet Frost has been on her own, so much so that she didn’t even bother to mention who the baby’s father is. Obviously she wasn’t expecting him to come around.

On the jump ship, he sits far as he can from the other man and tries to keep his focus on the mission. They don’t know what they’re walking into. They have no idea if these kids are even still alive, or how may there are, or what kind of condition they’re in if they are still alive. They can’t afford for one of them to lose focus right now.

Which is why he can’t reasonably be mad with Sara when she makes the call that she does.

“Ok.” The Captain announces as they attach themselves to the cargo dock of the alien ship. “Slight change of plans. Charlie, you’re with us. Ralph, you’re back up with Mick.”  
He and Mick look to each other, uneasily being an understatement, meanwhile Charlie practically springs from her seat, cheering about bashing alien heads.

“Boss...” It isn’t a question that comes from Mick; more like a panicked “you better be kidding”, but Sara’s expression is painstakingly serious.

“I’m sorry Mick.” She says in a way that makes Ralph think she isn’t _really _sorry. “But we need everyone’s head in the game.”

“Our heads are in the game.” Ralph pipes up, but he can’t help sinking back into himself when Sara looks at him in the most put-upon way.

“I wish I could believe that.” She says, and the others are already filed out onto the alien ship, she has to join them soon. “I don’t know what weird problem you two have with each other, but I want it worked out by the time I radio for back up. Got it?”

Suddenly Ralph feels a whole lot less like back up and more like a little boy whose just been grounded. He wonders if Mick shares the sentiment, because he doesn’t answer either. Instead he gets up and moves for the pilot’s seat and Sara disembarks from the ship without another word, closing the door and sealing them in together behind her.

* * *

The Legends, turns out, have a much more lax version of comm duty than team Flash. Zari has shown Iris at this point the basics of operating their main console table and she’s now sitting in the flight chair next to the one Frost claimed for herself, a bucket of popcorn split between them, while Iris is still stood over the console.

“We’re in.” Sara’s voice soon comes over the system, “There was a slight change of plans. Charlie’s on board with us, Ralph’s with Mick.”

The three of them exchange looks, Frost pausing with her popcorn midway to her mouth. Ralph and Mick waiting out the mission together on the jump ship, she’s sure that wasn’t voluntary.

“Got it.” Iris says, “Let us know when we’re needed.”

“Copy that.”

With the confirmation that the line is up and everything is fine for now, Iris comes over and joins the two of them, taking a handful of popcorn on her way to the next nearest chair.

“So,” she says, pausing as she sinks down and puts a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “How do we think that’s gonna go?”

She’s looking at her, no shame at all. Even so, Frost takes another handful of popcorn and drops a piece into her mouth before she answers. If she didn’t tell Ralph, she certainly didn’t tell Iris.

“Don’t know.” She answers after swallowing. “He didn’t take it too well finding out Mick’s the dad.”

Subconsciously she rests one hand on her stomach, either for emphasis or for comfort, she isn’t sure which. What she is sure about is Iris’s jaw is hanging open and Zari has frozen with her hand still in the popcorn bucket. She hadn’t known either, which means Sara, Ray, and Constantine are likely still the only others who do.

“What?” Iris eventually asks, and Frost is grateful for the distinct lack of betrayal in her voice.

She nods, shrugs, and grabs another handful of popcorn.

“Yeah.” She answers casually as she can. “Why are you guys so surprised? It had to be someone. What, did you think it was miraculous conception or something?”

Iris and Zari look to each other, and the silence is so awkward Frost finds that she can’t help smirking to herself with just the tiniest hint of pride.

“Of course not.” Iris finally says, “I just… I guess we assumed it was someone we don’t know, or something.”

“I didn’t think about it.” Zari admits, regaining her bearings and returning the majority of her attention to her snack. “So what? Last time we were in town you guys…?”

She snorts, “That’s generally how it works.”

Iris snorts next, but more like a scoff, with a considering look on her face and Frost frowns. She knows Iris must be piecing together the actual last time the Legends were in town, when she called them.

“So… Does Mick know?”

She nods, running her hand over the spot on her stomach where she can feel the baby kicking again, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Yeah.” She confirms, “I told him the day I came to see about separating from Caity.”

It’s Zari who furrows her brow, apparently now more interested in the situation.

“He hasn’t said anything.”

Ouch.

She shrugs and straightens up, her back tired of her being so slouched in the seat. She hopes that is the only pain visible on her face and none of what she feels from the confirmation that Mick has mentioned anything. It doesn’t come as a surprise, not really, not since she’s already known Zari has known nothing about his involvement - or lack thereof maybe – in all this.

“He told me he’d pay child support if I decided to keep it. I hadn’t figured that out at the time so I told him I’d keep him posted.”

She feels touch guilty remembering that, because she _had _said that. But she’s had her mind made up for weeks now and yet she’d hasn’t even thought about contacting him once.

“Are you keeping it?” Iris asks, a touch awkwardly, and the question catapults her guilt up twelve notches.

First Mick, both contacting him and withholding his involvement, and now Iris and definitely the others, including Ralph, she hasn’t told anyone anything, has she?

“Yes.” She confirms, and yeah, this is definitely the first she has spoken that decision out loud. “Sorry, I meant to tell you guys. I guess with everything-”

“Hey.” Iris interrupts her, understanding in her eyes. “It’s ok, it was your call.”

Frost smiles, a real smile that is every bit relief.

“Besides,” Iris continues, leaning back in her chair more comfortably. “We’ve kind of been operating under the assumption that you were, unless of course you told us otherwise.”

Well, at least the news isn’t a surprise.

They spend the next few minutes in relative silence; finishing off the popcorn and checking in with the group on the alien ship, who have so far not found any captives but are otherwise fine.

“So,” Zari starts eventually, glancing over at her out of the side of her eye. “Why Mick?”

Her first response is to laugh, so is Iris’s thankfully, but Zari doesn’t appear to understand the humor of it.

“What?” She asks, “I’m just saying, if I was going to hook up with anyone on this team I think I would go through literally every other option aside from my brother before I got to Mick.”

At that her laughter grows from amused chuckling to outright and loud. Iris, still laughing herself, has her head buried in her hands.

“Ok,” Zari relents, “I hear how wrong that sounded, but I stand by my point.”

Despite the partial retraction, if it can even be called that, she and Iris still take a minute to keep laughing at the question before they bother even trying to compose themselves.

In the end, it’s Iris who gets ahold of herself and puts in her two cents.

“I hate that you have a point.” She admits, looking from Zari to Frost herself. “Plus Mick kidnapped Caitlin a few years ago, what made you want to get into bed with him?”

She blushes, she can’t stop that, and she is fully aware that Iris and Zari can both see it.

“Oh man,” Zari groans, “Do I really want the details of this?”

Probably not.

She shrugs, “I mean, you know how it ended.”

This time when she puts a hand over her stomach it is 100% for emphasis, to which Iris rolls her eyes while Zari looks some odd cross between surprised she would even go there, and profoundly uncomfortable.

“Ok,” Iris says, still chuckling, “Now I have to know.”

She says that, but Frost can tell she’ll let her back out if she wants. She doesn’t have to tell. What happened between her and Mick, it can stay known only to the two of them and Caity if she really wants that.

She smiles wickedly.

* * *

Ralph groans as he paces.

It has been over an hour and at this point not only is he starting to get a little claustrophobic, but he is still trapped on this jump ship with Mick.

They haven’t spoken a word this entire time, and by this point he is starting to wonder if the air is really stuffy as it seems in here or if it’s just the tension from the two of them suffocating him more and more with each moment that passes.

He’s trying to cool down but he can’t help all of the thoughts racing through his head. How could Mick just leave Frost? Frost! Of all people! Even putting aside the fact that she is an amazing woman, she didn’t exactly get off to the most confident start with this pregnancy. How could you look at someone like Frost having a rough time and walk away? How?

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor.”

Ralph whirls around at Mick’s rumbled words. The other man is still sitting in the pilot’s chair, a baggy of M&M’s in one hand that he is pouring into the other; not sharing.

“Oh, so you care about the floor?”

Mick glances at him out of the corner of his eye, a warning. Not one that Ralph heeds, for the record.

“You care about the floor, but not about Frost.”

“I care about Frost.” He huffs, another warning. “Least enough to leave her alone.”

Ralph rolls his eyes, his arms folded as he shakes his head.

“Don’t give me that shit.” He says, “If you expect me to believe you sold Frost that crap about you’d be a shitty dad you’ve got another thing coming. She’s smarter than that.”

“I know.” Mick mumbles, crumpling up his baggy and stuffing it into his pocket. “Smarter than you. She knows it’s not crap.” He leans back in his chair with that, folding his arms across himself to mirror Ralph’s disapproving posture. “Frost knows I’m a wreck. Told her if she wants child support, I’ll pay it. But I’m no parent.”

There is a lot in that sentence that Ralph has a problem with, and certainly enough that he would like to discuss further. However of all the things he could choose to hone in on he picks what is probably the most trivial, considering he barely even abides by it, not even in his own mind.

But, the fact that Mick doesn’t even know…

“Her name is Crystal.” He says, matter-of-factly with an undercut of venom to his voice. He takes a deep breath when Mick looks at him, his face scrunched with confusion.

“Since she’s going to have her own life now she needed more than a hero name, she chose Crystal. Not that you stuck around long enough for her to tell you that.”

Mick looks thoughtful, to the point where Ralph actually starts to think that maybe he’s gotten through to him.

“What do you want me around for anyway?”

Or maybe not.

“What?” He asks, taken back. “What do you-? You have a kid on the way! A kid that deserves to have his father in his life.”

“Kid’ll have you.” Mick huffs, and if Ralph’s mind goes blank at that, something Mick doesn’t appear to notice. “I know you’re with her, you’ll be better for that kid than I’d be.”

He… He doesn’t know what to say to that. His brain, at least, isn’t functioning so minimally that it can’t remember Mick saw him and Frost in the med bay and realize what that must have looked like.

“I’m not… We’re not… The baby kicked.” He spits out, and Mick raises an eyebrow. “Which... is a miracle in itself, because last week the doctor told her there’s something wrong, and there was a chance the baby could be born paralyzed.”

Now Mick’s eyebrows shoot up and his fists clench, a cold worry that gives Ralph some hope that maybe all isn’t lost here after all.

Then, because he’s realizing that, a flicker of worry settles into his chest.

“Listen, my dad walked out on me when I was a kid. I know what it’s like to grow up knowing you and your mom weren’t enough for him. I don’t want to see that happen to your kid.”

For the first time in an hour he sits down back in his seat, running a tired hand over his face.

“But I don’t know, maybe things would’ve been worse if he was there pretending.”

The tension is back in the air and worse than ever. He feels like it’s crushing him, holding the air in his lungs and refusing to give him so much as an inch to let it out. Then, after what feels like an eternity, Mick gets up only to come and sink into the seat next to him.

“I don’t know if it’d be pretending.” He says, and Ralph looks over to him in surprise, but his eyes are still trained ahead of them at the opposite wall.

“I don’t do feelings.” He says, “But that night…” He pauses, running his hands uncomfortably over his legs before wringing them together. “Can’t say I didn’t think about it.”


	17. Is There Hope?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this would have been up days ago had I not gotten hit with writers block, and also life in general. Anyway, here was FINALLY are! So sorry it took so long!

_Another fight down, another global threat adverted, so obviously with all five hero teams in one place again they’re having a little celebration. Frost more told Caity rather than asked that she would be sticking around the surface for the party. She fought the battle, why shouldn’t she get to celebrate?_

_As she pours herself another drink she surveys the group. They’re in the hall again, the one Barry inherited from Thawne, only this time Cisco and Curtis have tricked it out with a sound system and some lights. Combine that with everybody bringing one or two bottles of assorted booze with them and this is actually turning out to be a decent party. Not everyone is into it, it isn’t everybody’s style, but most are. One of those who isn’t caught up in the festivities, and has caught her attention, is Mick._

_She’s spent a lot of time with him today, in the field, and while ordinarily she wouldn’t be compelled to spend extra time with someone… he peaks her interest._

_She doesn’t know him well, only that he once kidnapped Caity and she has more or less forgiven him for that. She remembers Barry and Iris’s wedding. When the Nazis attacked and she didn’t even have to ask for his help in taking them down, hell she didn’t even have to look at him. She’d heard the roar of his flamethrower coming up on her from behind and made herself a long sword of solid ice and held it out for him to torch, burning away any rough edges and leaving it sharp enough to slice their attackers in half with one swoop._

_Today was much the same. They worked in tandem against their enemies, watching each other’s backs and hatching a rogue plan with barely a word spoken. She’s never had a connection like that with anyone, ever, and it may be asking for too much but she is curious..._

_She grabs a beer and heads on her way over to his secluded little corner of the hall. He clearly realizes she’s coming for him by the time she’s partway across the dance floor, but he doesn’t move to leave. Maybe it’s the beer in her hand, maybe he just doesn’t care; either way works for her._

_“Not the celebrating type?” She asks as she reaches him, holding out the beer, which he takes from her._

_“Depends.” He says, producing a bottle opener from his pocket and shucking away the cap. “I celebrate if I got beer.”_

_Ok, she’ll drink to that._

_“You?” He asks, and she shrugs._

_“This is usually more Caity’s scene. But I told her I wanted to hang around tonight, grab a drink.”_

_He inclines his head, some sort of partial nod she guesses, and she takes another sip of her drink._

_“Wat’cha think?”_

_She shrugs, crinkling her nose._

_“Caity can have the next party.” She decides, “It’s fun, but kind of sucks when the only people you know are the ones you see every day.”_

_And for her, it isn’t even that. Sometimes she goes over a week without coming out, maybe two. On some level she’s still getting used to her own team, never mind the other four._

_Mick, after a moment of apparent consideration, drains the majority of his beer and places the three-quarters empty bottle down on the rim of the heater._

_“Come on.” He says, but he doesn’t move further than pushing himself from the wall. After that he watches her as her brow furrows._

_“Where are we going?”_

_That’s when he does start walking away._

_“Somewhere fun.”_

_She watches him go for a second, and then figures why the hell not? She drains her drink and leaves the empty glass next to his bottle._

* * *

_“Really?” Frost asks as he passes her a cue. “You brought me halfway across town to play pool?”_

_Mick smirks to himself and starts wracking up the balls. She’d been quiet the whole way over here; only asked once where they were going and when he told her “someplace less crowded” she’d accepted it and shut her trap._

_“You’d rather be back with all the heroes?”_

_It’s a partially serious question, for the record. He’s heard about her more villainous days, he’s also heard that she’s trying to leave those in the past. She’s doing good from what he’s seen, and if he does say so himself, so is he. But he gets the feeling that she’s a little bit like him, and the big hero celebration can get old after a few hours without the proper amount on alcohol in your system. She’d even said it to him; the hero socializing is Caitlin’s scene. She doesn’t know the people back in that hall, not the way they all know each other; not in the way they get each other._

_He ain’t going to claim he gets her… but maybe he gets where she’s coming from._

_She shrugs, admittance on her face as she picks up the cue ball._

_“So what?” She asks, turning the white orb over in her hand, inspecting it with one eye and glaring at him with the other. “You want to shoot for the break? Or are we playing with gentleman’s rules?”_

_There’s a drawl of distaste in the second question, not that he’d ever worry about it; he’s no gentleman._

_“Wracked first.” He says, “Can’t shoot.” She looks at him with a question, probably trying to figure out if he did that on purpose or not; he didn’t. He digs through his pocket and pulls out a quarter, holding it up for her to see. “Call it.”_

_With that he tosses it, and she almost doesn’t have enough time to shout out “heads” before the coin lands back in his hand and he flips it onto his wrist, then looks back up at her._

_“Tails.”_

_He starts the game, with a shitty break he might add, and she follows him up by sinking the 2 ball._

_“Solids.” She drawls happily, tilting her head and smirking up at him. She then goes about lining up her next shot, and if he didn’t know any better he’d say she’s giving him that nice side view of her ass on purpose._

_“So, family gatherings not your bag either?” She asks and he snorts, ain’t that how it feels sometimes._

_“Too much.” He tells her, “Can’t handle all those morons at once. Too much optimism in one room.”_

_“Tell me about it.” She says around a scowl, taking her shot and sinking another of her balls._

_Ok, he’ll admit it; he is mildly impressed._

_“Where’d you learn to play?”_

_She smirks at his question from the corner of her mouth, straightening herself up and rounding the table to follow the cue ball._

_“I have friends.”_

_He doubts she’s talking about Allen and his brainiacs, but whoever those “friends” are they taught her well. She kicks his ass in the first game, and in the second he’s coming a little closer but it’s still looking like she’s gonna wipe the floor with him._

_Especially when he keep scratching._

_She hums this little laugh, quiet but thoroughly amused, and she comes around to line up her next shot._

_“You don’t play a lot of pool on that time machine of yours, do you?”_

_He shakes his head, “Can’t. No place to put a table.”_

_This time when she hums it’s more of an acknowledgment. She takes her shot and it’s good, but not good enough to sink anything for once._

_“Shame.” She comments, “Your team looks like they’d have fun with one.”  
_

_There are at least three different implications there, and it catches him off guard. She doesn’t know his team, hell she probably knows even less than anyone else he would claim doesn’t know them, but… she’s not wrong._

_Guess you only have to spend a day with his crew to know they like getting into all kinds of trouble._

_“What about you?” He finds himself asking, pausing before he crouches to start his next shot. “You like to have fun?”_

_The wicked smile she gives at that is one part confirmation, one part challenge._

_He misses the shot._

* * *

“Huh.” Iris muses, “You and Mick had a surprisingly normal date.”

“It was not a date.” Frost denies with a scowl, “We just got bored of the party.”

The looks she’s getting say that neither of her confidants here believe her, which is ridiculous because it was so not a date. A date has to be planned, and involves more nerves than what she felt running around with Mick that night, right?  
“Ok,” Zari says, “So, did anything else happen between that and…” She trails off, gesturing vaguely to Frost’s stomach, and with a snort she shrugs.

“Not really.” She explains, “I mean, obviously we didn’t jump each other right there in the pool hall. We finished out the game, came back here, and that was that until the puking started two months later.”

Iris shakes her head, laughing in a way that is either unbelieving or near disapproving, but she’s clearly amused.

Even if she wanted to say anything more on the matter there’s no time, as it’s right then that Sara’s voice comes over the comms asking they bring the Waverider closer to the H’San Natall’s ship. They’ve found the hostages, and they need their way out.

* * *

Mick can’t believe he’s actually told Stretch about him and Frost…Crystal…whatever. It’s not like he actually cares what the human wad of bubble gum thinks of him, in fact he much prefers the guy thinks he’s a deadbeat. Ralph can say him and Frost aren’t together, maybe they aren’t; but it doesn’t change things. Doesn’t make him any better suited to be a father, and neither does the fact that Frost maybe could’ve been more than another one night stand.

The thing is, the way he and Frost worked together in the field that day, their flirting, everything… he hasn’t seen anything like that since Sara and Snart.

It hurts just thinking about it. Snart dragged his feet and look where it got him. Hell he’s surprised the ghost hasn’t made an appearance yet to rip him a new one about repeating history but… gah. She deserves better than him, both her and the kid do.

He can’t drag ‘em down.

He can see the Waverider coming into view, and boss says they’re all en route with the hostages. There’s eight of them, but the aliens are hot on their tails so it’s gonna be a tight fit in the jump ship.

Ok, tight fit might be an understatement.

He’s lucky he has enough elbowroom to maneuver their steering and get them to the Waverider’s bay, and soon as they’re clicked in Gideon jumps them somewhere. Still in space, she says they should give all the rescued hostages a check-up before going back to Earth.

In the time it takes to do that he does his best to avoid Frost, something that is surprisingly easy. She’s holed up in the med bay helping with the check-ups and getting stories straight. He does swing by, once, and through the doorway he gets a glimpse of her blasting a small puff of cold onto a teenage girl’s bruised arm, smiling with just the right mix of sympathy and anger.

Yeah, she’s gonna be fine.

* * *

While she’s healing one of Toni’s injuries – Gideon preoccupied with one of the other kids, a boy named Cody – Frost catches a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of Mick lurking in the hall. Unfortunately, by the time she has a chance to properly look up, he’s gone.

A tiny frown of disappointment tugs on the corner of her mouth, but she masks it quickly with a smile plastered back into its place for the sake of the scared former hostages. She finishes up what she can help with and then leaves the rest to Gideon, and she’s debating between seeking out Mick or Ralph – the latter solely to make sure they really are ok after earlier – when she sees a familiar face she didn’t really get to talk to in the med bay.

“Isaiah.”

He turns his head when he hears her, his smile grateful, happy, and most of importantly safe.

“Crystal.” He says her name, and then he hugs her.

It catches her off guard, but it’s nice nonetheless. She hugs him back; grateful she even gets the chance.

“Thank you.” He says as he pulls away. “Ralph told me this was all your idea. Thank you. Without you, we’d still be stuck on that ship.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She beams at him, and then her eyes finally search past him as if to confirm that, yep, he’s alone. “Where are your parents?”

“They’re fine.” He says with a smile. “They’re talking to Ralph, about the ship.”

She nods, and she wants very badly to know what exactly went on on that ship and how much danger they’re still in, but not now. She’s sure he and some of the others have talked about it already more than they would like to. She can look at Ralph’s notes later. For now she tells Isaiah again that she’s happy for him, and since she now knows Ralph is busy there’s only one person for her to go see.

She finds him in his room.

She knocks on the door, he doesn’t answer, and she’s about to walk away when, finally, it opens.

Mick looks her up and down before inclining his head for her to come in. She does, suddenly wondering what she is doing here. Thinking about the night that landed them in this predicament… yes, she liked him. She might still, if things were normal, if they could not be in this situation. If…

She turns around when he closes the door, and in doing so she meets his eyes.

“I…” She has no idea where to start. They said no strings, no feelings; they weren’t in this for the long haul.

Except, now that she is, a part of her is still holding onto the hope that he only needed time.

“Stretch told me about the kid.” He says, nodding toward her, his eyes set uncomfortably but firmly on her stomach. “Said something’s not right? You were worried about the kid being paralyzed or something?”

He looks up at her eyes questioningly, and she looks to the ground.

“Yeah.” She confirms, crossing her arms in a means of steeling herself. “The doctor found a break in the spine, she said it could cause paralysis, but also my healing powers could fix it. I still don’t know if that’s what happened or if it’s just not bad enough to cause paralysis, but the baby kicked, and Gideon did a scan. It was a kick.”

She can see some of the worry in his face ease away; she can feel it in herself too. It’s still crazy to think, even if she knows she isn’t out of the woods yet with the whole problem, that paralysis is off the table. There might still be a walker, a cane, or surgery. But her son will be able to walk.

Which brings her to the next point.

“Gideon also told me the gender.” She says, “Do you want to know?”

She can see the thoughtfulness on his face, and she can’t help the way it fills her with a little bit of hope. He cares enough to think about it, and then to nod a positive.

She smiles, “It’s a boy.”

He hums; she thinks she even sees a little grin of his own pulling on his lips. That makes it so much harder not to hope, and a part of her is perfectly fine with that. Maybe he did come to the library earlier to smooth things over, maybe she didn’t give him enough of a chance. Maybe…

Maybe he has changed his mind.

“Stretch said he.” He comments, “I didn’t think much of it…”

She smirks, stepping closer to him.

“Should’ve known Ralph can’t keep his mouth shut.” She says, and she stops right in front of him. “Guess I’ll have to tell the others.”

He hums, and then it’s quiet. Very quiet.

“I…” She trails again, looking for something, _anything _she can say. “I have an appointment on the 7th, to check on the break in his spine and see what we might be facing.”

He hums, sort of; it’s more like a rustling sound of acknowledgement at the back of his throat. Whatever it is she doesn’t know what to make of it, and she opens her mouth to say something more, though she has no idea what-

“Let me know?”

She closes her mouth.

Ok… He wants to know. That’s… That’s good.

“Course.” She says, and then it’s quiet again. So quiet. So, so painfully quiet.

She is not good at this whole talking thing, clearly. But, well, guess they’ll never be a better time to start trying.

“Or… You could come with me?”

She says it so quietly, and she regrets it the moment she does. His face falls into a sorry frown, and what she wouldn’t give for one of Cisco’s breach devices right now.

“Frost…”

“Or not.” She hurries to say, “You don’t have to… I just thought if you wanted to-”

“No.” He says, and finally her heart sinks. There’s a shining something in his eyes, which dart away from her and to the ground. “Sorry.”

She’s frozen at first, but eventually she licks her lips and smiles tight.

“No problem.” She forces herself to say, “I’m the one who pushed.”

She brushes past him with that and opens his door.

“Frost.”

She should not turn back, and yet after taking a second to steel herself she does.

“Yeah?”

He looks at her a moment, his apology still shining in his eyes.

“Take care.”

She nods, her fingers digging desperately into her biceps, a straining effort to keep herself grounded.

“You too.”

* * *

She is grateful, beyond grateful in fact, that neither Ralph nor Iris asks about Mick when they all leave. Ralph asks if she’s ok as they’re all breaking off to various places, either their cars or the lab. She’s going for her – Caity’s – car, and she tells him that she’s fine.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She says; putting on the best smile she can manage for him. “He’s not going to be involved, I already knew that.”

Despite the truth of that, Ralph still looks surprised, not to mention the slightest bit angry.

“Look,” she sighs, “I’m fine. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, I promise. But right now I’m tired and I really want to go to bed. Ok?”

He nods, “Ok.”

She gives him one more smile and slips into the car.

She’s fine, really. Enough that she doesn’t cry on the drive home, or scream, or curse, or freeze the steering wheel under her hands. Cools it yes, but no ice. Ok, so a few tears do slip out, and she most certainly could have a full-blown fit if she let herself. But driving probably isn’t the best time for that, and besides, she has cried so much lately. Between the baby and Mick, she’s over crying for now.

When she gets home she trudges up the stairs to Caity’s apartment, and she is going to have to start looking for a place of her own soon, which means she is going to _have _to crack down on her job search, and…

“No.” She mutters to herself aloud, locking the door and dropping the keys in the bowl nearby. “Not tonight.”

She’ll worry about everything she has to worry about tomorrow. Today has been too long, too wracking… she’s done for today.

She fixes herself a quick dinner of pasta and butter, since she hasn’t eaten much since the bowl of popcorn she split with Zari and Iris. She keeps her mind firmly blank while she eats. Not on anything happy, but nothing sad or impending either. She finishes her dinner then brushes her teeth and gets changed for bed. She has some real pajamas that she’s bought; fuzzy black pants and a loose shirt with snowflakes on it. The shirt rides up a little with her pregnancy but whatever; it’s comfortable.

Right before she’s about to crawl into bed and give herself over to a dead sleep, she catches sight of the giant plush elephant from the arcade slumped in the corner where she’d plopped it. Ralph had suggested she give it to the baby, and maybe she will. But that won’t be for another five months. So, her mind made up, she grabs the toy and lays it on the bed, then crawls in next to it and settles herself under the blankets with one arm around the elephant.

Is this pathetic for a grown woman with a baby on the way? Probably.

Does she care? Absolutely not.


	18. It Takes a Village

When Frost wakes up in the morning she still feels… sluggy.

She’s tossed the elephant from the bed at some point during the night, and discovers him flopped on the floor as she rolls onto her back and glances to the side. She smiles in spite of the sight, making a mental note to not let her son ever sleep in her bed with her. She reaches over the edge of the mattress and grabs the toy, yanking it up and sitting it down on top of her. She holds it up under it’s arms, it’s head flopped forward, and almost against her will she finds her mind drifting off into the imagining of holding her son like this.

So far, any daydreams she’s brought upon herself regarding the baby have all been panicked induced. She’s thought about how she’ll probably drop the poor kid at least once. She’s envisioned burning dinner to the point that the apartment is filled with smoke while the baby cries in its playpen. She’s imagined a toddler running away because she didn’t realize he was tall enough to reach the locks. She’s even thought about a teenager who has realized she is absolutely not fit to be a mother and walks out with a bag to go live with Auntie Caitlin. But right now, as she runs her hand over the soft grey fur of her ridiculous prize from the arcade, for the first time she let’s herself think they’ll be ok.

She won’t be perfect, or anything even remotely close. But she can imagine mornings like this. Lying in bed with her little boy propped up on top of her, making little faces at her. She’s still likely to burn dinner, but maybe she can figure out toast by the time he’s old enough and she won’t be too harsh when cleaning the jelly off his face. When he first manages to open the front door, maybe by then she’ll be adept enough to his troublemaking that she’ll hear it before he gets too far. Maybe his teenage self will only spend a night at Caitlin’s and then come home.

Maybe she can pull this off without Mick.

She’s going to have to.

As she gets up and starts getting herself ready she still feels the effects of yesterday weighing on her, which is insane because it isn’t like yesterday gave her any new information about her future, apart from her baby’s sex and the fact that he can use his legs.

She knew before yesterday that Mick is not likely to be involved. She knew before yesterday that she needs to get a car of her own, a place, a new job…

She sighs; she’ll figure that all out, somehow.

Getting into S.T.A.R. Labs she goes straight for the lounge, and finds Ralph behind the counter making coffee.

“Hey.” He greets her when she walks in, “Coffee?”

“Please.” She says, sinking down onto a stool.

She’s tried to be careful about her caffeine intake over the past few months, since she knows it isn’t the best thing for the baby. She knows she got lucky with the smell; bad as her morning sickness could get in the earlier weeks coffee was never really a trigger for it. It’s seemed like a stronger scent than she thinks it used to be, sure, but it’s never made her run for the toilet.

And if there were ever a morning where she needed coffee, it would be this morning.

Ralph is eyeing her almost wearily as he pours her a mug, and she knows him well enough to know it has nothing to do with the caffeine and everything to do with yesterday. She promised she’d tell him, and if she has to start putting the pieces of her life together, it’s as good a place to start as any.

Doesn’t mean she doesn’t wait until they both have their coffee and she has slowly stirred in a healthy serving of cream.

She takes a long sip of the coffee, her eyes closed as she tries to sort out her thoughts. She opens them as she sets her mug down, almost amused by how obviously Ralph is trying not to look at her.

“I asked Mick to come to the next ultrasound.” He stops trying to hide his watching her, thankfully. “He did not want to.”

At first Ralph remains quiet. She’s fine with that, what is he supposed to say?

“I’m sorry.”

Apparently that.

She shrugs and takes another sip of her coffee.

“It’s ok.” She says, and it is. Or, at the very least, it’s going to have to be.

“You know, it’s funny.” She muses, inspecting her nails. “I knew after the last time I talked to him that he doesn’t want to be involved, but I think a part of me was hoping he might’ve been thinking about it and changed his mind.”

She drums her fingers against the ceramic of her mug, the tips of them making a light tapping sound.

“I know I did.”

The words are more for herself than for Ralph, and she finds that she hates them the moment they’re out. They sound like hope, like faith in Mick. That won’t do her or the baby any good.

“Anyway.” She says, straightening herself up a little bit. “You talked to most of our friends yesterday, how big of a threat are the H’San Natall?”

“Now? Not so much.” He answers and, understandably, she’s a little confused, which he must be able to see on her face. “Turns out they sent nine operatives down to Earth sixteen years ago to, you know, do it with human women and leave behind nine future sleeper agents. Once their kids came of age over the past few weeks they came to collect, and took the mom’s while they were at it to see if carrying hybrid babies had any lasting effects.”

Right, of course.

“We rescued eight.” She notes, and he nods, with a warning expression on his face.

“Charlie swiped some computer files while we were on the ship. The project logs. Turns out there were some… complications, with one of the women. She miscarried and, well turns out a half formed alien-human hybrid-”

“I got it.” She cringes, her face scrunched up with his words and one hand coming to rest firmly on her stomach, the other held out to stop him. “Can you please skim over the miscarriage details around the pregnant woman?”

He nods quickly. “Right, sorry.”

“It’s ok.”

“Anyway.” He says, picking back up. “Her alien boyfriend came back to do some damage control and she ended up going back to their planet with him. Since we busted out their other eight kids their ship has flown far, far away from Earth. Zari’s still decoding the files but looks like they retreated.”

She can tell by the suddenness of his smile, by the shrug of his shoulders as he picks up the coffee pot and starts to pour himself some more. He knows it sounds too good to be true.

Probably is, but what are they going to do about it?

“Cool.” She says, taking another sip of her own coffee. “More time for me to figure out my life.”

“Oh yeah?” Ralph asks; an eyebrow raised with sudden interest. “Where do you plan to start?”

She settles her chin in her palm and glares up at him, unimpressed.

“Job, car, apartment. Any of those sound more doable than the other two? I’m open to suggestions.”

He… He thinks about it. Of course he does. She snorts a laugh and finishes her coffee, and while he is still thinking she gets up and moves behind the counter to put her mug in the sink.

“Job.” He picks as she gets there, and she looks over at him.

“Ok.” She says skeptically, “Any idea where I should start?”

“Yes, actually.”

Oh, of course.

She’s almost afraid to ask.

“Where?”

She isn’t expecting him to bounce on his heels, his hands clasping and unclasping awkwardly in front of him. Now her interest is definitely peeked, so she crosses her arms and leans herself against the counter, and then pushes off again when her spine that is already growing tired of carrying a baby around screams at her that this is NOT an ideal way to lean.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh boy.”

He ignores that.

“You’ve been helping me a lot with my P.I. cases, not to mention you found Isaiah, seven other kids, and all of their parents pretty much by yourself.”

“We all had a part in that-”

“And yours was a big one.” He insists, “Anyway, if you want, I’ve been thinking that I could use a partner.”

She raises her an eyebrow, especially considering he looks serious.

“A partner?” She asks, almost disbelieving.

He shrugs. “I pretty much make my own hours.” He says, “Might make taking care of a new baby easier if you could do that. Plus you could bring him with you to the office if you ever needed to.”

He stops there, though she thinks he has more prepared. It’s an interesting idea, and maybe not a bad one. She has liked helping him these past few weeks, and he’s right about working with him in the P.I. office would make taking care of the baby a hell of a lot easier, especially since she’s by herself in this.

“Ok.”

* * *

One would think that getting her working situation settled it would ease her mind and her stress.

One would be wrong.

It does work for a while, but then she goes to her check-up. Nothing surprising happens there, in fact she has to pretend to be surprised, since she isn’t about to try explaining the A.I. from the future giving her a check up and revealing the gender on accident.

The break is still there, and not healing, much to her disappoint. But things are OK, so Dr. Jones talks over some options with her, and none of them are things they haven’t already discussed. Surgery, a walker, a cane… possibilities she is going to have to be thinking about. She’s known about these things for weeks, and they have been closer to the front of her mind than the back of it. But now knowing that paralysis is – thankfully – out of the picture and these are the things she _is _going to be dealing with makes it feel so much more real. With it feeling more real, things are feeling more and more pressing, and thus her stress is not eased.

Settling into the new job as Ralph’s official partner has its ups and it’s downs. She knows she made the right decision in taking the offer; she likes working the cases and he wasn’t kidding about making her own hours being a huge lifesaver at times. The biggest downside, however, is the pay. A private investigator doesn’t make nearly as much as a scientist, and working almost entirely on commission doesn’t help. She isn’t as stressed about being financially stable as she was before the job, but she’s stressed enough.

If it were only her she had to worry about it might be a different story. But now that she’s at the halfway point of her pregnancy she is starting to look at baby furniture and clothes, toys, and essentials such as diapers, bottles, pacifiers, and all of those types of things. Plus she’s still trying to figure out getting her own car, and her own place and… and… and…

And some days, it takes a lot of concentration to ward off the panic.

It gets harder every day, building and building, until one day when she is zoning out on watch duty at S.T.A.R. Labs, trying her hardest to keep her mind off of anything and absolutely everything aside from the occasional kicking in her belly and, of course, any chatter on the comms.

_“Hey stranger.”_

She jolts in her seat.

The words are quiet, an echoing whisper, but she knows they were real.

“C-Caity?” She asks, her voice low and trembling. She knows the words were real, she knows it.

_“Hey.”_

She still breathes out in relief.

“Hey.” She says back, gasping a smile. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

There’s a beat this time, a long one. It’s long enough that her face falls.

_“I’m still working on it.” _She eventually hears, perking her up again. _“Come talk to me tonight?”_

She nods, even though Caity can’t see it.

“See you then.”

* * *

She practically races home once Barry returns from patrol, which turns out to be completely pointless because it takes her for-freaking-ever to fall asleep. Once she finally does it isn’t long before she’s standing in the slightly blurred version of the living room with Caity standing before her clear as day.

“Wow.” She says, her eyes scanning Caity head-to-toe and taking note that she looks exactly as she had five months ago. “So despite sharing a body, I’m really the only one here who gets bigger with the baby?”

Caity frowns for a second, almost puzzled, and looks down at herself.

“I guess so.” She says, hands smoothing out her loose blouse anyway, as if to confirm there is no baby bump hiding underneath. “This is how I remember myself, it makes sense this how my subconscious would portray me.”

She ducks her head with understanding, guilty understanding.

“I’m sorry.” She says, “If we could switch-”

“Hey, no.” Caity interrupts, crossing the room with sudden intent and reaching forward and taking Frost’s hands in her own when she reaches her. “That is not why I called you here.”

She nods, and then with a sweet and sympathetic smile Caity tugs on her hand. She leads her back across the room and to sit on the couch, something that even here in her dreams is starting to become an awkward process for her. Caity doesn’t say anything; thankfully, though Frost does catch her grinning.

Whatever, the point is that once they’re both settled Caity takes a breath and gets down to business.

“First off,” she says, “I want you to know that I did hear you that day a couple weeks ago, when you were calling for me in the car.”

Her own face falls, her teeth finding her lip.

“I don’t want you to think I was ignoring you or anything, I wasn’t.”

“I know.” She says, “I know you’re still working on the whole talking while under thing, it’s not easy.”

Caity nods, “No.” She says, her voice an agreement. “It’s not, and trying to do it when you’re as stressed as you were that day… It makes it so much harder.”

At first she can’t help but be a little taken back by that, but it makes sense. She remembers trying to talk to Caity, _just _talk, not take over, back when she was actively fighting against her and it was near impossible. It was like a concrete wall was put up in front of her and pushing back, so to imagine maybe not a wall; but something more like a puddle of wet concrete with various bricks being tossed into it, she can’t picture it being easy to get through.

“I’m not telling you that so you’ll try harder to not freak out,” Caity continues, “You have every right to be stressed.”

With that, Caity reaches over and reclaims one of her hands.

“I just want you to know you still have me, and that includes for after the baby comes.”

She looks at her a moment, Caity’s face set in a frustrated type of frown.

“Frost, you’re not going to have your whole life together in five months.”

Well, not exactly what she wanted to hear tonight.

“I’m sorry.” Caity continues, “But you won’t. I can hear all your worries about finding a place and making enough on your own to make rent, and support the baby, and how much a car payment is going to be and… it’s a lot at once.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” She scoffs, “But I don’t exactly have a choice in it.”

“Yes, you do.” Caity argues, and then she fixes her with possibly the most pleading-yet-stern look Frost has ever seen. “You can take it one step at a time.”

Ok, normally Caity is the logical one. But this… she isn’t sure she’s grasping the whole concept of the ticking clock they’re on.

“How?”

“Move in with me.” It’s more of a command than an argument, and Frost widens her eyes, which Caity holds the gaze of.

“Excuse me?” She asks, “Are you nuts?”

“Are you?” Caity argues, “You’re driving yourself crazy with the pressure of finding a place but you know I have a spare bedroom. All of your stuff is already in my apartment-”

“Caity.” She interrupts, sticking up her free hand in a gesture like it’ll help process all of this quicker. “Thank you, but I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already given up nine months of your life just so I can have this baby, I can’t ask you to put up with living with it.”

Caity gives her hand a squeeze, smiling.

“Do you remember how I told you our DNA make-up is the same kind as that of identical twins?  
Oh, she’s going to play that card.

“Yeah.”

“Ok, so that makes us sisters, and while we probably know more about each other than normal sisters would considering we’ve lived in each other’s heads, I would still love to be able to have a chance to have time together as sisters. And I would really love to get to see a lot of my nephew.”

She can’t help chuckling at the sound of that, at how much she likes it.

“Ok. “ She agrees, despite herself. “But if it’s too much feel free to kick me out.”

This time Caity is laughing, because they both know she would never do that.

“Ok,” Caity says, and Frost smiles.

Maybe things are going to work out after all.


	19. Better late than never

Since she now knows she is going to be living with Caity after the baby comes – which is admittedly a HUGE relief – Frost does finally allow herself to start thinking about setting up the room. She talks the details over a little more with Caity, who claims she doesn’t care one way or the other if the two of them share her room or if Frost shares a room with the baby, but with all Caity’s doing for her it isn’t even a question. Caity gets her room back at the end of this, she’ll share with her son.

The first step is going to be clearing out the spare room, which isn’t as hard as it sounds. Caity’s had it set up as a guest room, and even though she’s tossed a few random items inside over the last couple years, it’s still mostly clean and livable.

So, since she’s able to start on it practically right away, she does her best not to let that freak her out and starts looking at baby furniture.

Something she makes the mistake of doing while monitoring comms at S.T.A.R. Labs.

“Are you looking at cribs?”

She looks over her shoulder at Iris’s question. Her friend has walked in and stopped short behind her, her focus on her computer screen split between the comm systems and an Amazon page.

She shrugs, “Gotta do it sometime.”

“Yeah…” Iris practically scowls as she marches over to her own chair, setting down her armload of Citizen work. “But Ralph was supposed to tell me when you started looking for stuff.”

She looks at Iris for a minute, eyebrow arched.

“I just started.” She says, “Why was he supposed to tell you?”

“So I can start thinking about your baby shower.”

She blinks. She’d had no idea what answer to expect to that question, but that wasn’t anywhere on her radar. She hadn’t even considered the idea of having a baby shower, yet somehow it doesn’t surprise her that Iris not only has considered it, but also has also already been conspiring with Ralph about it.

“Is that ok?” Iris asks, apparently she’s been quiet too long.

“Yeah.” She nods, and Iris beams.

“Great.” She says, sitting down. “So, now that you know, is there anyone you want to invite? Right now I’ve only mentioned it to our crew.”

She tries to come up with someone, anyone, off the top of her head, but she’s drawing a blank. Sure, she _has _friends outside of the S.T.A.R. Labs crew, but none of them know even the tiniest bit about any of this. They aren’t exactly on the straight and narrow, and even the few who she thinks she MIGHT be able to trust not to use her pregnancy against her… well they have enemies who wouldn’t be so kind.

“Not that I can think of, but I’ll let you know. Thanks.”

“Of course.” Iris says with a smile.

They pass the next few minutes in relative silence. She keeps browsing around the Internet, periodically switching between looking at supplies for the baby and supplies for herself. The sound of Iris typing her latest article keeps the cortex from ever growing completely quiet, and occasionally Barry chimes in with an update from patrol. Eventually Iris’s clicking of keys grows slower, though to tell the truth Frost hardly notices. She’s more in her own world than the real one at this point, lost in half formed thoughts about the coming future, until Iris brings her out of it by speaking again.

“What about…” She trails off, and when Frost looks her friend has a thoughtful look on her face and an editing pen pressed to the corner of her mouth. “I’ve been going back and forth on this, but should we invite Caitlin’s mom?”

She swears she hears her brain turn off.

Actually, she does hear something in her brain. Something way, _way_ in the back of her mind; a quiet curse from Caity. So great, neither of them thought about this, fan-fucking-tastic.

Iris must see the distress in her expression, because she places down her pen.

“You think about it.” She says, “We don’t have to make that decision tonight, or even soon. Just let me know.”

She forces herself to nod, “Will do.” She says, and then it’s back to clicking around the Internet.

Not that she is focused anymore.

* * *

“Oh please, it is not your fault.” Ralph chides her while they’re sitting on the office futon, picking at Chinese food and working on a case the following night. “If anything it’s Caitlin’s fault, she’s the one who never talks to her mom.”

She sighs, and searches briefly for Caity’s input but either her other half is keeping quiet or she’s still too stressed to hear her.

“Whatever.” She finds herself saying, “The point is I am literally halfway through my pregnancy and Caity’s mom has no idea.”

Ralph cringes, and lets her stab around at her steak tips before speaking.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“What can I do?” She asks, rhetorically. “I have to tell her, the question is how.”

She stirs her food around in its paper container to the best of her ability. She knows she isn’t always Carla Tannhauser’s favorite person, and she doesn’t blame her after everything Icicle put her through. Still, they’re probably on the best terms they’ve ever been on right now. Probably. She doesn’t actually know, but Caity passed along a thank you from her after the whole Icicle thing, even if only for the speed healing.

She tips her head back and groans.

“Relax,” Ralph encourages around a mouthful of chicken, nudging her leg with his toe. “Sure she might be pissed when she finds out, but what’s she gonna do? Never talk to you or Caitlin again?”

“That is a firm possibility.”

Ralph shakes his head, clearly not convinced.

“Just tell her sooner rather than later, and explain how much stress you’ve been under.” He pauses to put his dinner box down on the floor, a true testament to how seriously he wants her to listen to him.

“I mean come on, you have been putting an entire life together from scratch, and you’ve only had what? Two months so far to do it?”

She lifts her head up and opens her mouth to contradict him, to tell him she has had _much _more time than that. She has to, but as she thinks back… he’s right.

She’s twenty weeks today. She told Mick at twelve weeks, and they realized she had to be on the surface only one week before that. Two months and one week.

“Wow.” She practically whispers, setting down her own food. “Feels like it’s been forever.”

He chuckles, and grabs their previously discarded case file from where he’d sat it next to him.

“And you’re doing great.” He says, and then looks at her over the top of the file. “Just call her, the rest will work itself out.”

She smiles at him, small and only about half-reassured. They move back to their case then, and the next morning when she is staring down at the number typed into her – Caity’s – phone she is trying to keep his words in mind.

Everything will work itself out.

She scoffs to herself, easy for him to say.

Finally she forces herself to tap the call button and then she holds her breath as she brings the phone to her ear. By the second ring she starts to hope, maybe she won’t answer. Maybe she’ll get lucky and be able to leave a message, maybe-

“Hello?”

Damn it.

She opens her mouth, but no words come at first. She just gapes into the phone like an idiot.

“Hi.” She finally manages to say, and oh God she can’t do this.

“Hi.” Carla sounds suspicious already. “Caitlin, is everything alright?”

She gulps; she can’t do this.

But she has to.

“Yeah…” She trails, taking her free hand and rolling it against her leg twice until the hair tie she’s had on her wrist is up on the tips of her fingers where she can pour all her nervous energy into it and away from her voice. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Except, um, I’m… I’m not Caitlin.”

She presses her hand – fingers tied up and all – silently to her face soon as the words are passed her lips. Really? Start this off with a blunt “I’m not Caitlin”?! She’s going to think her daughter has lost her mind!

“Killer Frost?” The reply comes after far too many seconds of heavy silence, but it’s a relief all the same. She exhales silently, not even in the least bothered by the use of that name.

“Yes.” She says, starting to pace a small circle around the kitchen. “Though it’s just Frost now. Or Crystal, which is I know a random name, it’s kind of a long story.”

She runs her hand up through her hair as she realizes that she’s rambling.

“Ok…” Carla sounds like she’s getting more and more confused with every second that passes, which is more than fair. “Is Caitlin ok?”

“Yeah, Caitlin’s fine.” She says, and she needs to just come out with it before she rambles on any more. “Um… listen there isn’t really an easy way for me to tell you this but um… I’m pregnant.”

The line is quiet, and she swears she could throw up right here and now.

“Not Caitlin.” She spits out, desperate for some kind of response. “There’s a uh… A difference in our DNA. So I’m pregnant, and I have to be the one on the surface to carry it… It’s complicated. I’m 20 weeks along, and I know I should’ve told you sooner but… I didn’t. I didn’t think of it. Everything lately has been a lot. I’m sorry.”

It still silent on the other end, so much so that she starts to wonder if maybe she lost the connection, or Carla hung up on her. She’s holding her breath, and she is well aware she needs to let it out soon but she just can’t. What if Carla is still on the line? She’ll hear it and _know_… Well she isn’t sure what exactly she’s afraid of her knowing. She’ll know she’s a mess. She’ll know this isn’t an easy phone call for her. She’ll know… something.

“Ok…” It is a very, _very,_ uneasy word that finally comes over the line, but it does come. “This sounds like a lot to unpack. Why don’t you come meet me for lunch? Do you know Alonzo’s in Keystone?”

“I’ll look it up.” She answers through the breath all but staggering out. “Thank you.”

A beat. “I’ll see you around 12:30.”

“See you then. Bye.”

“Bye.”

When she hangs up the phone she isn’t sure if she should smile and cheer or cry and panic. What did she just do? She got Caitlin’s mother involved, that’s what she did. Oh God, what was she _thinking_? Why didn’t she do this sooner? Why didn’t _Caity _think to send her mom a text when they first found out? Isn’t that what normal women do? Tell their mom’s first when they find out they’re pregnant?

Ok, that isn’t fair. Caity and her mom have never had that type of relationship, and Caity was only on the surface knowing about the pregnancy for like three weeks, she can’t pin this on her.

Not so suddenly, her stomach churns _hard. _Some residual morning sickness dredged up by this fresh and overwhelming bout of anxiety. She sprints from the kitchen to the bathroom, one hand behind her head and clutching all her hair by the time she gets to the doorway and she uses the other hand to grip to the toilet as she gets to her knees. She wretches into the bowl, the gagging painful and the bile leaving a disgusting taste on her tongue. She pants after her digested breakfast is looking back at her, and sinks back to sit on her heels. She rubs a hand along her stomach, still holding her hair back with the other; she doesn’t trust herself quite yet.

“Ok.” She whispers, though if it’s to herself or the baby she isn’t sure. “It’s ok. It’ll be fine.”

Definitely herself.

Taking a deep, greedy breath through her nose, she releases her hair and leans forward enough to flush the toilet. She closes her eyes and listens to the rush of the water, adjusting herself to sit back more properly against the tub. She still feels nauseous, so she continues moving her hand over her stomach like it could soothe it.

She receives a light kick from the inside for her efforts.

She cracks her eyes open and looks down at herself. She still isn’t used to feeling the baby move inside her, she doubts she’ll ever get used to it. She curls her fingers under the edge of shirt and the material up to her chest, and then returns her hand to its previous position. She can’t see the baby moving yet, which is something she’s perfectly content with. She’s not sure how she feels about being able to look at her stomach actively changing shape on the outside while her son dances around on the inside.

“What do you think kid?” She finds herself murmuring, “Caity and her mom are already a mess. We about to make it worse?”

No movement in reply.

“Fair enough.” She huffs, and she rolls her shirt back down and sets about getting herself up. “No turning back now, might as well try our best.”

* * *

Trying her best, turns out, means trying harder than usual to disguise what a hot mess she is.

She decides to wear a black top that’s tightly fitted. She isn’t trying to hide her bump, but she also doesn’t want a loose shirt giving the illusion that she’s bigger than she is and making Caity’s mom feel like she’s kept this longer than she says.

Once she’s at the restaurant - and parallel parking has only taken her four tries - she checks her hair and her make-up in the car mirror, tries to fix her hair, and then with a dissatisfied growl she gets out of the car and slams the door maybe a touch too harshly.

Alonzo’s is a little hole in the wall place on the first strip of downtown Keystone. It’s a little cramped inside, but she supposes that’s for the best; if other customers are so close to them it might keep Carla from yelling.

The moment Frost walks in she sees her. She’s sitting in a booth along the wall, facing the door. She stands as soon as Frost enters, and she doesn’t necessarily look happy but, well, Frost can’t imagine she does either.

She doesn’t look mad, so that’s a plus.

She walks swiftly over to join the older woman, marching right past the approaching hostess and then, when she gets to the table… she just stops.

Her and Carla stare at each other long enough for her to be aware of the other diners watching them, trying to decipher what exactly is going on here.

If only she knew herself.

“Why don’t we sit?” Carla finally suggests, motioning to the booth.

That sounds good.

She nods and slides into the side of the booth opposite Carla, her eyes catching sight of the glass of water already there.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Carla says, gesturing to the water. “The waiter asked what we would like to drink.”

“It’s fine.”

Carla nods, her mouth a firm and indiscernible line. She then picks up a menu and Frost; well she follows that lead and does the same thing. The menu is what she would expect from a typical Italian place; pasta, pizza, grinders, a few burgers here and there. She decides pretty quickly she wants a grinder, but she doesn’t close the menu. It’s only a few minutes before the waiter comes to take their orders, but those are a few very excruciating minutes.

At least she doesn’t throw up again.

“So.” Carla finally says once the waiter is gone. “You said on the phone things are complicated?”

To say the least.

“Yeah.” She says, her voice low. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well,” Carla says, folding her hands on top of the table. “We have time.”


	20. What Makes a Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long this has taken, please enjoy this longer-than-usual chapter!

“Well,” Carla says, folding her hands on top of the table. “We have time.”

“Hm.” She hums, her eyes downcast and focused very intently of the peeling shellac of the wood table, which she has started to pick at.

Carla doesn’t say anything else, which she isn’t sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Eventually though she knows she has to say something, to start explaining, and so she forces herself to stop scratching at the table and look up to meet Carla’s imploring eyes.

“It um… It was my fault.” She says, deciding that is as good a place as any to start. She shifts awkwardly to bring her hands onto the seat of the booth and sits on them. If she can’t move her hands she can’t fidget, she has to focus; she has to talk.

“Caity said it was ok, me sleeping with… with the father. But uh… I’m the one who thought the pill would be enough.”

She can feel herself shrinking under Carla’s hard gaze. She can feel her stomach knotting up and she takes a sip of her water, afraid that if she doesn’t she might be sick again. She hurries up with the rest of the story. She explains everything she can about the genetic difference between her and Caity and the baby belonging to her. She explains their arrangement and repeats probably three or four times that Caity is OK being under for right now and staying there for the next four months. She explains about Constantine and how he can separate them once the baby comes, as well as why he can’t do it beforehand. She explains her creating her own identity, and abruptly shuts up when the waiter comes with their food and stays quiet until he’s gone.

Then she gets into the most nerve-wracking part yet.

“Caity gave me permission to use her last name.”

She is barely able to find it within herself to look Carla in the eyes. She knows Carla never changed her name to Snow – she had been on the cusp of breaking through in the scientific field and unwilling to let something trivial as a name send her backsliding. But still, she can’t imagine Caity’s mother taking it _well _to hear she’s taken on the Snow name for herself. Not when she, really, has no right to it.

Carla doesn’t say anything. Instead she reaches forward and takes the Parmesan cheese for her pasta. She pours a light amount over the noodles in her bowl and begins to mix them around. Frost decides to take the opportunity to take a bite of her grinder; maybe it’ll put her even just a little bit at ease.

It doesn’t. But it doesn’t make her any more nauseous than she already is, so that’s kind of a win.

“Let me ask you something Crystal.” Carla finally says, and so of course she does her best to swallow as quickly as she can without choking. “You, obviously, haven’t had a typical existence up until this point.” She stops herself there, “Would you say that’s a fair statement?”

She has no idea where this is going, and as such she can’t help but to stiffen her posture and scoot just a _bit _closer to the edge of the booth.

“Yeah.” She agrees, “I don’t know when exactly I… came to be, and I spent most of my life more or less asleep, inside someone else’s head. So yeah, not exactly typical even including this point.”

Carla nods, apparently satisfied by that answer.

“Right. So, I’m assuming Caitlin would be one, and obviously your baby would be another, but who… who do you consider family?”

Oh.

Uh…

She takes another sip of her water, trying to buy herself a few seconds of time. It’s not that she doesn’t have an answer, she just isn’t sure if it’s the answer Carla is looking for.

But, it is the only answer she has.

“The S.T.A.R. Labs team, I guess.” She says, and she watches for a reaction but Carla only nods with the absolute most neutral expression on her face. “Ralph, Cisco, Barry and Iris. And Joe, Iris’s dad. Even before the pregnancy they’ve been there for me.”

Carla nods, slow and considering, and Frost can’t help wondering if she’s given the right answer, or if there even is a right answer at all.

“Ok. What about parents?” Carla asks slowly, and Frost could swear her heart free falls into her stomach. “Have you ever thought about that?”

She shakes her head quickly. She would never make an assumption like that. True, she called Thomas her “dad” once, but that had mostly been for the sake of getting to some more important matters at hand in the moment.

“Caity and I have been thinking of ourselves as sisters. Especially now knowing we’re more like twins genetically, and with separating and everything.” She pauses to take another drink of her water, her throat suddenly feeling impossibly dry. “But I know I’m not your daughter.”

She watches Carla closely for a reaction. She’s waiting for the nod. The “good, wanted to make sure.” She’s waiting for some kind of a confirmation. But what she gets is a very taken back look and that… that just doesn’t make sense.

“I’ve never thought of Icicle as my father, either.” She stammers, because maybe Carla is worried about that. Maybe Carla thinks if she doesn’t think of her as her mother it has to mean the worst.

“I’m not like him.” She swears, suddenly desperate for Carla to know that.

And, thankfully, she smiles softly.

“I know you’re not.” She says, and Frost feels so much tension leave her body it’s more than she’d even thought was possible for a person to hold.

“You helped save Thomas last year.” Carla continues, “You’ve saved Caitlin probably more times than I would like to know.”

She can’t help chuckling at that.

“I’ve been trying this past year to be a better mother to Caitlin. I suppose after Thomas, I really should’ve learned that a good way to start with that would be no more secrets between us.”

She feels her eyes go wide and her jaw set.

“What-?”

“It’s not something as serious as Thomas’s being alive.” Carla interrupts, before she can be asked how bad this is. “This is something I _always _intended to tell Caitlin when she was old enough to understand. But then our relationship suffered, and it never seemed relevant.”

Ok…

“What is it?”

Her voice is a touch cold, her stiff posture too but she isn’t going to blame herself for that. She also isn’t going to mention the sudden hyper-awareness of her interest in this conversation, and how the interest isn’t totally hers. She can feel Caity awake and listening in the back of her mind.

Carla takes her time with getting to her explanation, twirling around more pasta on her fork before she finally puts it down and looks Frost in the eyes.

“Right before Caitlin turned two I discovered that I was pregnant again.”

Well. She wasn’t expecting that.

Caity wasn’t either, by the feel of it. She can imagine her face pretty clearly: slack jawed and speechless.

Or, maybe that’s just her still getting the hang of talking while under. Probably both.

“I miscarried early in the pregnancy, but it was a lot for me to deal with and Thomas and I agreed not to try again.”

“Ok…” She drawls, “Um… Why are you telling me this, exactly?”

“Well, for one thing, in case that ever happens to you or to Caitlin.”

She nods, her eyes flicking away as she remembers them coming close to that. She still doesn’t like to think about it.

“But more so because…” Carla continues, trailing off like even she is unsure of the answer to that question. “Well, like you said, you are nothing like Icicle, and I think that has a lot to do with your friends at S.T.A.R. Labs. Your family.”

Suddenly this whole conversation feels infinitely tenser, and she hadn’t thought such a thing was possible. She takes a bite of her sandwich like it’ll distract her, or maybe even ease things. Meanwhile Carla takes her sweet time with finding the rest of her words, whatever those are, and Frost tries to quash down the hope of what something inside of her is thinking they might be.

“I understand if you don’t want to think of yourself as my daughter, a year ago I might even have asked that of you. But if you would like to… I would be happy to have two children again.”

Frost learns something about herself in that instant; when something she is irrationally hoping for comes to be, she has no idea what to do. She almost chokes, and Carla keeps stirring around her fork like it is the only thing keeping her sane.

“You don’t have to call me mom.” She adds, quickly. “And your baby doesn’t have to call me grandma or anything of that sort, if you’d rather not. But, if it’s alright with you, I would like to be a part of your life in the same way I am trying to be for Caitlin.”

She really has no idea how to respond, at all. She does _want _to say that would all be great. Calling her mom, having her around, especially if she really is serious about being more open with Caity. But, really, it all feels too easy.

“Yeah.” She finally stammers out. “Yeah, it’d be great to have you around sometimes. Um, Iris is planning a baby shower for me. She hasn’t set a date yet but would you want to maybe come to that and we can go from there?”

Carla nods, “That sounds good.” She says, and it’s enough to relieve the tension surrounding their table that they can finally eat without it feeling like a distraction.

“So,” Carla eventually asks, “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

* * *

With her standing with Carla more or less sorted out for the time being, and knowing that Iris is planning a baby shower for her means she can’t get too many things for the baby yet, Frost finds that she actually, finally, has very little to do.

She gets her own phone and puts Caity’s away in the drawer of the nightstand, and that is apparently the limit of what she can feasibly do right now in terms of preparing her own life.

It’s nice actually, to be able to focus on the cases with Ralph and the typical problem of the week at S.T.A.R. Labs without having a mental breakdown every other day. In fact, her next biggest problem may only come a week after her lunch with Carla, but it is hardly to the magnitude of the other things she’s been dealing with.

“No.” She tells Ralph, not even looking up from the case file for their latest cheating husband.

“Oh come on,” Ralph continues to plead, undeterred. While she has made herself comfortable on the futon he is sitting at his desk on his laptop, his share of their work obviously long forgotten. “You have a rare opportunity here, one that even if you have another kid you can’t be sure you’ll get again.”

She rolls her eyes, her fingers tightening on the manila folder in her hands. The baby is kicking again, it seems lately like ever since he figured out how to do that he hasn’t wanted to stop, but right now she could almost mistake it as him trying to tell her he agrees with Ralph. But no, no way.

“Don’t care.” She says, and she doesn’t have to look to see the disappointment on Ralph’s face.

“Here, just look at some of these.” He tries to bargain. “Not every woman is lucky enough to be pregnant over Halloween, you should make the most of it.”

Finally, she does look up at him, unimpressed.

“Lucky?” She asks, “You carry around a squirming bowling ball for nine months and then come talk to me.”

Ok, to be fair, she isn’t feeling the weight of the baby _yet. _At least, not to that extent. But she knows it won’t be long. Besides, those words do bring a very amusing grimace to Ralph’s face.

Still, against her better judgment, she puts down the file and gets up, going around to look over his shoulder at his screen. He has an image page pulled up with search results for _Halloween costumes for pregnant women._

Every single one of them is completely ridiculous.

“Look, the gumball machine is a fun one.”

“No.”

He frowns, but she can tell he is far from deterred.

“Ok… What about the chest popper one from Alien coming out of the belly?”

“Is that what that is?”

He shakes his head, though more annoyed than actually put out.

“Ok, you and me are watching alien at some point.” He mumbles as he starts scrolling through the page. “The Avocado is kind of cute?”

“No.” She shoots it down. “And if your next suggestion is the cow, I might freeze you.”

He, very wisely, scrolls until the cow costume is gone from the screen.

“The nun is funny.” He snorts, and ok, even she has to admit the humor in that one is pretty good.

“It is.” She admits, “But I’m not dressing up.”

“What?” He gasps, his hand flying to clutch at his chest. “What do you mean you’re not dressing up?”

She shrugs, and leans against the edge of the desk.

“What’s the point?” She asks, “It’s not like I’m going trick-or-treating, and I can’t exactly go and get drunk at a party.”

He shrugs, relenting to her point. So, having won the argument, she pushes off the desk and starts back for the futon.

“I’m just going to hang out at the apartment and hand out candy.” She says, and then thinks some more about it as she sits down. “Kids do trick-or-treat in apartment buildings, right?”

He shrugs, “Some. In Central I think it’s about 50/50 between the apartments and the suburbs. How many kids live in your building?”

This time it’s her who shrugs. Her building is only four floors; and she’s pretty sure she’s only ever seen two or three kids going in and out.

But then suddenly Ralph is getting up, and he has _that _look on his face. The look that says he has an idea, and that can be a very dangerous thing when it comes to him.

“You know what I just realized?” She doesn’t think she wants to, “This is your first Halloween, and it is the only Halloween you’ll have for the next decade or so where you don’t have to take a kid trick-or-treating.”

“And I can’t spend it drinking.” She reminds him, “What’s your point?”

He grins, and oh does it worry her when he grins like that. He has a plan forming, and she is going to be dragged into it whether she likes it or not.

* * *

“Really?” She asks when Halloween night comes around and they FINALLY arrive at their destination.

To be fair, he didn’t make her dress up. What he did do was tell her at three in the afternoon that they were taking the rest of the day off from the office and to get in his car. With anyone but Ralph that would have raised a whole mess of red flags. Even with Ralph, actually, it still raised a few. But those were only flags of skepticism; she knows Ralph would never hurt her.

But, after they had driven two hours and far past the cityscape of Keystone, she was starting to wonder.

They went through a drive-thru for dinner and she made him stop for a bathroom twenty-minutes later. He told her to be quick, which is unusual for him. But now it all makes sense.

They had to get here for the seven o’clock time slot he bought tickets for.

To, she’ll mention, a haunted hayride in the middle of nowhere Kansas.

“What better way to spend your first Halloween?” He asks, grinning from ear-to-ear, to which she rolls her eyes as she gets out of the car.

“We had to drive three and a half hours for this? There aren’t any haunted houses open in Central?”

“They’re not as good.” He argues as they walk towards the main entrance. “My mom’s boyfriend brought me here for Halloween when I was thirteen, I couldn’t sleep for a week, and I’ve tried to come every year or so since. Trust me. This place is the best there is.”

Ok, she’ll bite, mostly because they’re here anyway.

The crowd for their timeslot seems to be mostly couples around their age and this one middle-aged couple who came in full vampire costumes. There is also a group of five kids who look like they’re maybe twelve at best: two girls and three boys. The girls are already cowering in fear, but give them time and Frost is pretty sure the boys will be the ones crying.

She can smell the motor of the tractor before she can hear it, or see it, and while the exhaust on it’s own is bad, it’s mixing with the already nauseating manure of the field is overpowering and before she can even think about it she is bolting away from the group and to the nearest bush. She is well aware that her actions are noticed, thanks to the pre-teen boys loudly making gagging sounds and laughing, but she doesn’t have time to care. She is too busy hurling up the crappy drive-thru food and at some point she becomes aware of Ralph’s hands taking her hair from her.

Grateful, she moves her hands to her legs for support. As soon as she thinks she’s done throwing up she breathes in deep, and oh God that is a mistake. The manure and the exhaust was bad, but manure, exhaust, and the sour scent of bile does it to her all over again.

“It’s ok.” Ralph says, rubbing circles on her lower back with the hand that isn’t holding her hair. “Ok. It’s ok.”

Yeah, sure.

She is still spitting out the last of the second onslaught when she hears footsteps coming up next to them.

“Everything alright here?”

She looks up, and she is not proud to admit it, but she screams.

She screams, she jumps, in fact she is partially convinced she might have fallen to the ground were it not for Ralph’s hand suddenly on her wrist and keeping her up. He chuckles at her reaction, and so does the undead farmer in front of her with incredibly good make-up and no shirt under his overalls despite the cold temperature of the air.

“Yeah.” Ralph answers, “Yeah. She’ just not feeling too great.”

“Well, I can hold the tractor a minute for ya. But let me know if you’re coming or not.”

Ralph is the one to thank the guy, which is a relief, because she’s pretty sure if she so much as opens her mouth she is going to be sick again.

Ralph waits until the farmer is gone to look at her, worry taking over his previously calm face.

“You ok?”

“Yeah.” She says weakly, and she burps following the word, but she forces herself to swallow it back down. “Doctor said bad smells could bring back the morning sickness.”

She doesn’t say it with her voice, but she is sure it is written all over her face, that to her, this place reeks.

“Do you think you’re going to be able to do this?”

She looks past him back to the tractor, with the thick cloud of exhaust coming out of its tailpipe and blowing almost right into the hay cart. It’ll go into the field that is more likely than not the source of the manure, and worst of all it’s a dirt path. It will be bouncing. Up and down, up and down, through a whole trail of haunted, foul smelling, fumes.

“I’m sorry.” She says as she finally looks back at Ralph, and he nods.

“Don’t be.” He says, and without another word he turns back for the tractor. “Sorry to hold you up.” He calls, giving the farmer a wave. “Maybe next year.”

The farmer waves back, and she feels terrible, especially since they came all this way and Ralph loves this place so much. But the tractor starts riding away without them and Ralph comes back, cocking his head towards the dirt parking lot.

“I’m sorry.” She says again as they head for the car, admittedly feeling better already now that all the terrible smells are fading into the distance.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ralph says, “If anything I should be sorry, I didn’t even think about the smell of the farm messing with you.”

She can’t help but to laugh at the notion that he – or anyone – would’ve had to take something like that into account planning a fun Halloween night.

“You want to see if there’s a movie theatre nearby?” He asks, “Lot of places play the classics on Halloween night. Or we could head back.”

She thinks about it a minute. She wouldn’t mind seeing a movie, and it really would be a waste for them to come so far on Halloween to not celebrate at all.

“Movie sounds good.”

* * *

They did end up finding a theatre not too far from the hayride farm. Made it just in time for a Frankenstein double feature too, so all in all Ralph would mark this one down as a pretty good Halloween.

Currently they’re back in the car and it’s a little after midnight, and Ralph is relying on the radio to keep him company since Frost has been asleep for at least a half hour now. She’d liked the movies, or at least she had seemed to. They were playing the classics, and while they did nothing to scare her she had commented that it was nice to see the old horror movies before CGI took over a lot of the special effects.

He snickers to himself, thinking of her getting scared by the tour guide at the haunted hayride. He didn’t know she could scream like that. He’ll have to look into the farm’s hours next year. If they’re open at all before Halloween he will definitely be convincing her to find a babysitter so they can go.

He glances over at her. Her sleeping form slumped in her seat and her head against the window, the glow from the streetlights outside shining off her silver hair every few seconds as they drive. He can’t help the smile the sight brings to his face. Sometimes it feels like every time he looks at her she is either preparing for a battle or fighting one. It’s nice to see her relaxed.

As his eyes go back to the road he thinks back to Mick, when the two of them were stuck on the jump ship together to be specific. His fingers tighten their grip on the wheel at the memory and the knowledge of where they are now; that Mick isn’t here. He grits his teeth thinking about it. Frost asked him to be around, he even had weeks to think it over between finding about the baby and being asked that question, and he still said no.

He sighs; maybe it is for the best. Much as he hates Mick for essentially abandoning Frost and his child – though he did offer to pay child support – he’s sure he would hate Mick even more if he were to come around and not care.

_“Kid’ll have you.” _Mick’s words come back to his mind. _“I know you’re with her, you’ll be better for that kid than I’d be.”_

He glances over at Frost again, still sleeping peacefully. He thinks about those words more often than he would like to admit. If Frost knew she would probably freeze him. But sometimes he can’t help it, those words had forced him start examining their relationship. They aren’t together, he had told Mick that, but the mind-boggling part is that he doesn’t think he would want to be. He can’t come up with a single reason for him not liking Frost in that light other than it just doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like them. They’re friends, best friends even, but he doesn’t think they’re meant for more than that. Mick was right in saying he will be around for her baby, of course he will be. He’ll be fun Uncle Ralph and he’ll show the kid all the best ways to get out of trouble, not to mention teach him the importance of a poker face when he’s old enough.

They hit a pothole right then and it stirs Frost, but she doesn’t wake. She shifts a little and murmurs a little sound of nothingness and that’s it. Ralph smiles as she settles back into the depths of sleep. He may not be right for her, but when whoever is does come along, they are going to be one of the luckiest people in the world.


	21. What is Meant To Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone!

Frost groans as she shifts herself from one side to the other for what feels like the thousandth time in the last hour.

“Ugh…” She practically growls, rolling onto her back and plowing her head deeper into the pillow.

“No…” She whines, and ok, whining is not something she likes to do. So, having had more than enough of this, she props herself up on her elbows and glares down at her rounded stomach as though such a response will have any effect.

“Look. I get that you don’t have any concept of time in there, but it is one in the morning and I am not going to be the person who drives down to a gas a station at this hour for a pint of peanut butter ice cream. You’re not getting any, so suck it up and go to sleep.”

Oh yeah, real nurturing mother she’s going to be.

“Ugh!” She groans, because with that thought she becomes madder at herself than the stupid baby, and so she flops back down and pulls a second pillow over her face to cry into.

“Mhmm… What the fuck is wrong with me?” She half moans, half weeps. Then she sits up, sniffling, and looks down at herself again with a sigh. “I’m gonna have to stop swearing, aren’t I?”

_“Might be a good idea.” _She stiffens at the unexpected echo of Caity’s voice in her head. She knows it’s good that Caity is getting better at talking under the surface, even if they won’t have to worry about it in the long run, it’s still a comfort to know she can reach out during the day if she wants to.

“Caity?” She asks in a huff, and she feels a little guilty for it, but she is tired and stupidly hungry for ice cream, and honestly the last thing she wants to listen to right now is anything that doesn’t get her ice cream, especially chiding. “I love you, but can you please go to sleep?”

There’s a second of hesitance, and oh God she’s screwed something up.

_“Yeah, sorry.”_

“It’s not that-”

_“I know. Don’t worry about it. You do what you gotta do. Call if you want to talk.”_

She smiles, and then she feels Caity shut down into the depths of sleep.

She needs to sleep too, and so she tries again, but after another near hour of trying and failing because the baby is _begging _for peanut butter ice cream she finally sits back up.

“Fine.” She groans, “You win.”

She grumbles to herself as she pulls a sweatshirt over her not great fitting t-shirt, puts on her socks and her shoes, and grabs the keys and stalks down out of the building and to the car. It’s nearing two by this point, and she is halfway to the nearest 24-hour convenience store when suddenly her craving changes.

Not goes away. Fucking changes.

“Are you kidding me?” She demands aloud, “Three hours of demanding peanut butter ice cream and you just change your mind?” She growls and rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

* * *

Cisco knows it’s late.

He is well aware that it has been hours since the clock struck midnight, and it isn’t unlike him to loose track of time when he’s on a roll in his workshop. Still, with that being said, he didn’t think it had been so many hours that he should already be hearing the ding of an elevator and the sound of footsteps down the hall.

He pauses, screwdriver frozen mid-turn, and listens. The footsteps keep echoing, drawing closer. They’re brisk and in perfect rhythm with each other, like whomever they belong to is on a mission. Obviously he gets up and pokes his head out the door to investigate. That may not be the wisest move given their history with a very long list of enemies, and he is alone, and it’s the middle of the night. But there’s no sense of danger in the air.

When the footsteps come around the corner, it’s Frost who stops short.

She stares at him a minute, like a deer caught in the headlights. She’s wearing her pajamas and her hair is contained in a low ponytail, like she got out of bed in a hurry to get somewhere.

“What’s up?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe.

She shrugs, “It’s after two, I could ask you the same thing.”

Fair, he thinks with a shrug.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He tells her, “The answer to one of my projects here hit me around 12:30. I wrote it down but couldn’t get back to sleep after, brain kept going.”

She nods, accepting.

“Baby wanted ice cream.” She starts her explanation, and already he is fighting the urge to laugh. “I got halfway to the convenience store when he decided he wants raisin toast with peanut butter instead. The store didn’t have any raisin bread but I know Iris has some here.”

“So here you are.” He teases through a wry grin and a hand gesturing towards her.

She, at least, appears to see the humor in this. How could she not? She came halfway across town at two in the morning, for toast.

“Here I am.” She repeats, “And if you don’t mind I haven’t made it to the longue yet.”

He takes a large step back into his workshop, his hands held up in a mock surrender.

“Hey, don’t let me stop you. My cousins taught me never to stand between a pregnant woman and her food.”

She gives him a tight-lipped, half-amused smile as she continues on her way by him. He can’t keep all of his laughter contained and a chuckle slips out while she is still well within earshot but she doesn’t call him on it. Still laughing to himself he walks back fully into his workshop and sits at his desk, setting back to work. He’s already deep in the zone when he hears footsteps again, and this time turns in his seat to see Frost in the doorway with a half-eaten piece of raisin toast slathered in peanut butter in one hand.

“Whatcha working on?”

He shrugs, glancing back over his shoulder at the little device he’s been tinkering with.

Ok, more than tinkering. Finally putting together.

“Some stun disks for Ralph.” He answers. “You and Barry could use them too, I just thought of Ralph cause he handles damage control a lot. Might be helpful to have something so you don’t have to punch, freeze, or electrocute a random goon.”

She nods, that might be very helpful.

“Caity’s getting better at talking.” She blurts out, completely out of nowhere.

Cisco stares at her in surprise, which is beyond fair.

“Just thought you might want to know she’s doing ok.” She awkwardly explains, and that much is true, even if she hadn’t been planning on telling him at 2:30 in the morning while discussing field tactics.

“Thanks.” He says, “Tell her I miss her?”

She nods, “Of course.”

* * *

The next few weeks seem to fly by and drag on all at once.

Things still aren’t going up in flames yet. Instead things are happening one at a time, and Frost is starting to get the sense that this is what life is supposed to feel like. It isn’t calm but she doesn’t feel every day like she is ten steps behind where she’s supposed to be, so she’ll take it. She and Ralph don’t have a ton of P.I. cases to get through so she is able to focus more on whatever is happening on a daily basis around S.T.A.R. Labs as well as on the baby.

Her baby shower is one of the first things that needs to be settled. Iris runs the idea by her to do the shower on January 16th as so to avoid throwing it in with all of the holiday insanity but still give her enough time to sort through everything and get the nursery ready for the baby with, hopefully, some time to spare. She’s fine with that. It’s two months before her due date, so it should give her plenty of time.

The fact that they’re already thinking about dates _that _close to her due date she tries to keep out of her mind.

She does spend some more time turning the guest room of Caity’s apartment into her bedroom. She maps out in her head where the crib will go and the changing table, and notes that she will probably be readjusting those plans when she has those things. She orders some new bedding online; she can’t deal permanently with Caity’s beige comforter and matching sheets. She needs something that is a little more her. She ends up picking standard white sheets and a black comforter with the white silhouette of leafy vines winding up it from the bottom. She gets a throw blanket too and, of course, brings the elephant along and sits him up in the corner to keep watch at night.

She knows she needs to start thinking about names soon, and admittedly one night when she’s bored and sitting on the couch with nothing better to do she logs back into that account Ralph made for her and starts searching through boy’s names.

She establishes very quickly there are a lot of baby boy names out there that she doesn’t like, and frankly, some are downright weird.

She keeps a shortlist saved on her account of the few names she does like. By Thanksgiving she has about three, only one of which she thinks she actually likes, and she has to stop focusing on it in order to focus on the holiday.

It’s going to be rough on everyone to spend a Thanksgiving without Caity, even if she isn’t really gone. She isn’t even going to attempt making that pie, Barry learned for a reason after all. Caity’s the baker and she’s…. Well with a kid on the way she is going to have to learn to cook some time.

She volunteers to bring potatoes, because how hard can that be?

Apparently very.

She follows the directions carefully. She peels the potatoes, cuts them up into fourths, boils them until they’re soft, strains the water out, and then puts in butter and milk to mash them with. The directions say not to use too much milk, so she barely pours in enough to coat the bottom of the pot. But when the chunks won’t blend together she pours in a little more, and when that isn’t enough she adds a splash more.

Then she has potato soup.

“Ugh…” She moans, tipping her head back.

Whatever, at least she had the sense to do this the day before Thanksgiving, when the stores are still open.

The stores are mobbed with people, granted, but they are very much open.

She gets in and out within a reasonable amount of time and one bag of potatoes more than she needs, along with an extra quart of milk and half pound of butter. If she messes these things up on the second try, she is certainly not coming back to the supermarket again for a third. She is much more careful with the milk this time, adding it in almost drop by drop, until finally she has a pot of mashed potatoes she is happy with.

“Ah ha!” She exclaims upon tasting a small spoonful, for the third and final time. “I made mashed potatoes.”

She hums to herself in tune with the music coming from her phone as she covers the pot and puts it away in the fridge for tomorrow, and then sets about cleaning the mess she’s made in the kitchen.

Ok, so most people probably don’t trash the entire kitchen making mashed potatoes, but she’ll get better. She’s already a step above Iris.

Once she has the kitchen clean she thaws out a frozen dinner (she is not attempting to cook two things in one day) and sits down to watch some TV. She’s noticing a lot of holiday movies starting to pop up recently, but for her it’s a little early. She may not have ever really celebrated Christmas before, but already she knows she is not the kind of person who wants to dive into it before December even starts.

She’s been getting into LOST lately, despite warnings from both Cisco and Ralph that the ending is a colossal disappointment. She likes it so far, and she is only in season one. If she starts to think it’s going downhill she’ll quit watching.

After three episodes she peels herself away from the TV and gets ready for bed, admittedly a little excited for tomorrow.

But, not so excited that she doesn’t notice the cerebral inhibitor on her nightstand and remember who won’t be there.

* * *

When Frost blinks her eyes open in the dream the first thing she does is scrunch her brow in confusion. She isn’t in the living room.

She’s in the P.I. Office. The edges of the furniture blurred by the dream, but Caity is there and clear as day, sitting on the futon with a happy smile on her face.

“Why are we in here?” She asks, and Caity hums this happy little sound.

“You have your own life now.” She explains, “Your own memories, and your own experiences. The living room is sort of like a happy place for me, which is I think why my subconscious brings us there when I call you. But, you called me. Maybe this is your happy place.”

She wants to snort and say that’s all a load of bull, but the more she thinks about it the more it makes sense. For Caity, good things happened in that living room. She watched movies with the team, Cisco slept there after Ronnie died. No Meta or other super villain ever made it a place of attack. It’s safe. For her, the office is much the same.

This is where she came to get her new identity. She sat on that futon and tossed names for herself back and forth with Ralph. Every time she feels overwhelmed there is something here ready to distract her.

“I’ve called you before, we’ve been in the living room.” She finally says, coming over to sit next to Caity on the futon.

“Yes…” Caity drawls, considering. “But you were calling to talk about me. Plus it was the first time I’d spoken since going under, your subconscious might have been in such a rush to get here it just plopped us in the familiar setting.”

Ok, fair.

“Whatever, I didn’t call to talk about happy places.” She says, and Caity smirks at her.

“I figured.” She chuckles, “You called to talk about Thanksgiving.”

Caity snickers at her, which must mean the surprise is written on her face.

“I’m living in your head, remember?” She teases, “And I’m getting pretty good at listening.”

She rolls her eyes, idly wondering if she’s ever been this obnoxious with eavesdropping on thoughts.

Caity reaches over and takes her hand; her firm grip every bit as reassuring as her eyes.

“Have fun. Next Thanksgiving we’ll both be sitting around that table, but for this year tell the others I miss them, ok?”

She nods, a smirk playing on her face as she squeezes Caity’s fingers.

“That reminds me, Cisco asked me to pass that same message to you.”

Caity completely beams when she says that. She had obviously been asleep for that conversation.

Frost hesitates with what she wants to say next, she knows it could very well be a messy can of worms, but it’s something she’s never been able to figure out; not even when she lived in Caity’s head.

“Can I ask you something?” She finally says, and Caity’s face grows serious.

“Of course.” She says, reclaiming her hand and shifting to make herself more comfortable. “Anything.”

“You and Cisco…” She says, and already she can tell Caity is regretting saying she could ask “anything”. “You’ve been friends for awhile-”

“Crystal.”

“I know it doesn’t always work like that.” She interjects, the use of her name letting her know just how dangerous of territory she’s treading in.

Then, suddenly, she realizes she has the perfect bail out.

“I’m just curious.” She says, “Because the way you and Cisco are with each other… I almost feel like it’s a later version of how I work with Ralph. And the thing is… It seems like you guys would be perfect for each other. But as far as I know you don’t like him like that, and I don’t like Ralph like that, but am I supposed to?”

She doesn’t realize until she says it that the question truly is genuine. It is a very accurate statement to say that she absolutely does not like Ralph romantically; except for she can’t figure out why. He isn’t unattractive, and he has been there for her throughout every single thing life has thrown at her; and they have not been small things. She trusts him with her life, they get along great; it seems like the natural order of things that they would get together. And yet the mere thought of that makes her stomach knot up.

“I think.” Caity eventually says, after a long moment of a very thoughtful look on her face. “That people can have those deep connections without romance, sometimes. It’s like… Oh God, I’m going to pull a Cisco here. Have you watched FRIENDS?”

She nods, though admittedly a little lost.

“Not the whole thing.” She warns, but it seems to be enough.

“Ok, so you know what things are like between Phoebe and Joey?”

She nods again, and suddenly it starts to click.

“It’s like that.” Caity says, “They connect with each other differently than they do with the others, but they don’t end up together because they don’t connect like that.”

Ok that… That actually makes sense. It’s a relief to her. It means there isn’t anything wrong with her for not liking Ralph romantically.

Caity and Cisco on the other hand, she still isn’t sold on.

“What about Monica and Chandler?” She asks, and Caity snorts.

“That’s Barry and Iris.” She laughs, and ok, she has a point there.

“Got it.”


	22. What Friends are For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Happy New Years Eve!

Today, Frost thinks, has been a good Thanksgiving. Certainly better than last year when she had to guilt trip Cisco, Sherloque, and more or less abduct Caity to get them all there.

This year everyone came of their own accord, and it’s been great. No villain showed up to cut things short, all the food was hot and amazing, and Cisco and Barry cheered along with Joe during the game even though she’s pretty sure neither of them knows the slightest thing about football. Everyone marveled at Jenna and how she’s getting the hang of walking, and so far Cecile has tried a handful of times to get her to hold Jenna on her lap but the baby keeps finding distraction, and Frost is grateful for that. Besides, she doesn’t want to say it but she isn’t sure how well logistically that would work. She isn’t so big yet that she can’t still see or put things on her lap, but she is big enough that she doubts a squirming toddler would find her very comfortable.

So she’s perfectly content to watch Jenna from a distance on the couch, a paper plate of peanut butter balls in her hand.

She also has an open seat next to her, which Iris soon flops into with a mischievous smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” She returns, taking a bite from one of her little desserts. “These are really good.”

“Aw, thanks. See, I can cook when there’s no oven involved.”

She chuckles, and so does Iris.

“So,” Iris starts again, “I was just texting Kamila, and we decided we’re going to go out Black Friday shopping tonight. We only have one stop to make, but we could make a few more if you have any interest? We figured you could get some baby stuff.”

That catches her a little off guard, but not so much that she can’t quickly process the whole thing. She wouldn’t mind seeing Kamila again; she hasn’t seen much of her since the break up with Cisco, even if they ended on good terms. This would be an ideal time to get some of the bigger things she needs. The only thing really daunting her is the complete lack of experience she has with Black Friday, she’s seen plenty of movies to know it’s known for being chaotic. But she’s taken on super villains; she can probably handle it.

“You guys better know a 24-hour coffee place.” She answers, and Iris smirks.

“Of course we do.”

* * *

Iris and Kamila pick her up at 11:30.

She hadn’t realized until now how early she’s been going to bed lately. Before she got pregnant it was rare she was the one going to sleep at night, but on the few occasions in which that did occur she doesn’t think she ever went to bed before midnight. Lately, she knows she’s been settling down around ten or ten-thirty.

At least they’re stopping for coffee.

“Hey!” Kamila squeals from the passenger seat of Iris’s car while she slides into the back. “How are you?”

She smirks to herself when she notices Kamila very clearly trying not to stare at her stomach. She doesn’t mind; she’s sure she would be having the same reaction if she hadn’t seen someone in months, and then when she finally did they were six months pregnant.

“I’m good.” She says, buckling herself in with some difficulty. “Where are we headed?”

“First the coffee shop on the corner of Main, since Jitters closed.” Iris growls bitterly.

“Then,” Kamila interrupts, “We’re going to Photography Center because they have a great camera on sale for $150, and after that we can hit up either Babies R Us or Target if you want. They’re both having sales on baby furniture, I brought fliers if you want to look at them.”

With that she passes about three paper booklets of fliers over the center console for her to take.

“I have a sharpie too, if you want to circle anything.”

“Wow.” Frost says as she takes the papers, and the marker. “You came prepared.”

Kamila smiles at her comment and then turns back around and changes the song on Iris’s playlist.

After a stop for coffee they arrive at Photography Center, and promptly file out of the car to stand in the line by the door.

The line is fairly short, at least. Turns out Photography Center isn’t the most popular stop on Black Friday, not that they don’t still have a good crowd.

All Frost really cares about, is that it’s freezing.

“Are you cold?” Kamila asks her, and really it’s a rhetorical question. All three of them are bundled up with thick gloves and hats, but she’s the one with her arms folded tight and her shoulders shaking lightly with shivers.

“A little.”

_“A lot.” _Caity nags from under the surface. _“You’re internal temperature is twenty degrees colder than a normal human’s, you’re gonna be more susceptible to the cold. Be careful.”_

Her eyes widen; she hadn’t considered that.

“Will the baby be ok?”

She ignores Kamila looking at her with a mix of concern and like she has lost her mind, and thankfully Iris doesn’t give her more than a mildly concerned glance.

_“Yeah, as long as you don’t feel hypothermic or anything.”_

“Nope.” She says, another shiver running up her spine. “Just regular freezing my ass off.”

_“Keep warm.” _She can hear the smirk in Caity’s words, and she is very certain that her other half is not missing being on the surface right now.

Fortunately that’s when the doors open, and they’re in the store in no time.

Following Kamila through Photography Center is like following a general on the warpath. She marches through the store with every twist and turn memorized, bypassing almost every giant sign advertising a special sale and weaving around other shoppers with ease.

Walking through Target with her is a very different experience.

They spend more time in the line to enter Target than they did for Photography Center, and admittedly Frost is a little nervous about it considering they got here after the doors opened. Looking through Kamila’s flyers she decided the only thing she really wants to try and get tonight is the crib. The Black Friday sale has some pretty good deals and it’s a big thing, something she can’t ask for with the baby shower. So, understandably, she is a little worried they’ll be all sold out by the time they get there.

Having Kamila walking around with her nose in her flyers like a map isn’t helping.

“Hey, they have baby monitors on sale for $20.00. The good kind with video.”

Ok, maybe it is helping a little, but not helping them get the crib.

“I’m sleeping in the same room.” Frost says, grabbing Kamila by the arm to stop her from walking into a kid every bit as distracted by his phone as she is by her flyers. “Why would I need a camera on the monitor?”

“Just in case.” She shrugs, and leads on.

The cribs, thankfully, still have plenty in stock. The only thing is with the sale they can’t order to have the crib delivered, and Kamila had refused to get a cart because it would “slow them down.”

“There’s three of us.” Iris says with a shrug, grabbing one end of the box for the crib they’ve picked out. “We can handle it.”

They can. They switch on and off a few times who’s carrying - mostly because they loose Kamila twice and then neither she or Iris is thrilled about Frost even helping carry the box – but all in all they manage to get it out to the trunk of Iris’s little Hyundai Elantra where they face a new problem.

“It’s not gonna fit.” Frost observes, hands on her hips. They have the trunk open and the crib box propped up against it, and no way is it going in without sticking at least halfway out.

Iris frowns, her posture much like Frost’s own, with her lip quirked to the side in that considering expression of hers.

“What about…” She trails, marching over to the back door and opening it up. “It might fit in the back.”

Frost raises an eyebrow. “What about me?”

Iris clicks her tongue and looks back at the situation. There is no way she’s fitting back there with the crib.

“We could switch seats.” Kamila suggests, also coming around to look at the logistics of this.

Frost wants to amend her thought; there should be no way _anyone _is fitting back there with the crib.

But, they give it a shot.

Kamila has to get in first and adjust herself as Frost and Iris load in the crib. Frost ends up going around to the other side to pull and adjust the angle of the large box while Iris pushes from the other end. Ultimately they end up with the crib jammed in and leaned against the backs of the front seats, Kamila sitting sideways with her legs stretched out over the seat. It’s actually better than Frost thought it would be.

Getting the crib into the apartment, thankfully, is easier.

She wants to get it unpacked and put together quickly, but she knows it’s going to take up so much room once it’s all assembled and frankly she isn’t all that keen on losing so much of her floor space just yet. So the crib remains in it’s box propped against the wall across from her bed for days that turn into a week, and then into another.

“You have to put it together at some point.” Ralph teases her one day in the office. He’s at his desk working on a new missing person’s case while she’s on the futon with her laptop, half typing up a report for the case file of the cheating husband who had no business being married so young in the first place, and mostly ignoring the Internet tabs she has open on Spina Bifida treatment.

“I will.” She says, happy to look away from her screen for a moment. “Just later, when it’s closer.”

Ralph smirks at her, “Ok, but make sure you do it before you’re too big to keep getting up and down with the pieces.”

She gapes at him, dumbfounded, for a split second. No one, not Ralph or anyone else, has really commented on her growing size yet. There was Barry’s observation back in September about her belly being “noticeable”, and Kamila stared a bit on Black Friday when she first got in the car. But nobody has called her “big” yet.

Ok, Ralph technically didn’t say that. He only warned her of what’s to come in the near future. Besides, she isn’t blind. While she’s been showing for awhile now she’s definitely noticed that her belly has popped out more, so to speak, over the past few weeks.

She’s about to tell him to shut up, not seriously offended of course, but right as she starts to find the words there is a knock at the door and Cecile lets herself in with Jenna balanced on her hip.

“Hey guys, the nanny was sick today so I had to bring Jenna to work, but now I have to go meet a client and I’m not sure I’m comfortable bringing Jenna along, the address he gave me is a known drug house.”

“Ouch.” Ralph says, and Cecile sucks in air through her teeth, clearly disappointed already in her client.

“Yeah. Can you guys watch her? I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour.”

Frost looks over at Ralph. She doesn’t want to say no, but she can’t imagine she looks totally at ease with the idea. She isn’t, after all.

She imagines that’s where the mischievous glint in Ralph’s eye comes from as he gets up from his desk.

“Of course.” He says, walking to the door and taking Jenna from a grinning Cecile.

“Thank you so much, I won’t be long.” She waves to Jenna before she goes, a dramatically large grin on her face. “Bye baby. Bye-bye.”

Then, after pressing a sloppy kiss to Jenna’s cheek, she’s gone, and once she’s gone Ralph turns for the futon.

“What are you doing?” Frost demands, her eyes widening as he bends down and places Jenna into the empty space next to her.

“I’m gonna go to Cecile’s office and grab some of her stuff.”

“So take her with you!” She exclaims, leaning away from the incoming baby, her laptop sliding away from her in the process.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Ralph says as she struggles to save her laptop. By the time she has it back in her arms and looks up to argue again Ralph is already out the door, and she’s been left alone with Jenna.

Well, at least Jenna doesn’t seem too concerned with this.

She looks down at Jenna sitting calm next to her, wide eyes looking around and then up at her.

“Ralph’s coming back.” She says, but Jenna doesn’t look away. “What?” Still nothing, “Yeah, I know kid, you don’t see much of me.”

Jenna looks over the edge of the futon then, and starts to lean forward, so naturally Frost drops her laptop to the side of her and grabs Jenna under her arms and pulls her up and back.

“No, no falling off the couch. You are not getting a concussion in the one minute I’m in charge of you.”

Jenna looks at her, apparently unbothered by a mostly strange woman grabbing her and holding her up on her feet. She stares back, not sure what else to do. Maybe she should get up and go find Ralph, it’s what he deserves for just up and leaving her alone like this.

Before she can make a decision, however, Jenna tries to take a step forward but trips on the lumpy terrain of the cushion. She reaches out to catch herself, apparently unaware Frost is still holding her, and her hand lands up at the top of Frost’s belly.

Frost looks from the hand to Jenna’s face, which is looking curiously at where her hand is. Experimentally, Jenna start moving her hand down the surface of her belly, with such a mesmerized expression it’s enough to make Frost chuckle.

“What is that?” She asks in what very well might be a proper baby whisper, she’s got to start sometime, right?

She watches Jenna feel along the same spot up near the top of her bump for a few more seconds, smiling with amusement as the little girl very clearly knows something here is out of the ordinary but she can’t get a grasp on what.

“There’s a baby in there.” She whispers, and Jenna looks up at her with her curious expression still in full effect.

She giggles, and places one hand right next to Jenna’s.

“Baby.” She repeats, “Like you.” She taps Jenna on the arm with that.

Jenna is still looking at her, big eyes mesmerized by all of this that she so very clearly still does not understand, and that’s when Frost feels the increasingly familiar tap of a kick from the inside.

She gasps, partly with the suddenness of the movement, but mostly for the benefit of Jenna’s amusement. Jenna takes her hand away instantly, turns it over and inspects her palm, and then puts it back and resumes feeling around.

“Did you feel that too?” Frost asks, as the kick had been in almost the exact spot as Jenna’s hand.

She feels another kick, this one not so close to where Jenna is currently searching, but it still dawns on her in that moment that Jenna may have felt the kick against her hand.

She lays her hand back on her stomach, Jenna is now feeling the surface of her belly all up and down, but she goes for the more precise spot where Jenna’s hand had been at first. She waits a minute, holding her breath.

Kick.

She feels it. It’s light and more like a quick pulse, but it’s definitely detectable from the outside.

She lets out the breath she’s been holding, processing this whole thing. Jenna looks up in concern, obviously feeling the entire exhale too, and she smiles at the little girl.

“Here.” She says, gently taking Jenna’s hand and guiding it back to its original spot. “Over here. Now wait… Wait…”

She almost thinks the baby isn’t going to kick again, but then she feels the thump on her insides and Jenna’s face lights up with a giggle. She laughs along with her, and that’s when Ralph returns.

He has Jenna’s diaper bag on one arm and a colorful walker clutched in the hand of the other, and he stops in the doorway looking more than a little confused.

“Uh…”

“Come here.” She calls to him, waving him over. “Jenna felt the baby kick.”

Ralph appears to not process that for a moment, staring at her with a furrowed brow as he closes the door and puts down Jenna’s things, but then his eyes widen as he gets closer to the couch.

“Like… From touching you?” He asks, almost like he can’t believe it.

She has to laugh at him. “Yes dumbass, get down here.”

With the situation apparently, finally, clicking in his brain he almost trips over the coffee table trying to get to the futon. He somehow manages to scoop up Jenna before he basically crashes into what had been her spot. He settles her quickly on his lap, and then she is more than content to return to her previous activity of searching for the kicking baby.

Who, for the record, must be aware of the attention because he is now kicking like he’s trying to run a marathon.

Ralph looks anxiously at her, like he’s unsure of what she wants him to do here.

“Here.” She takes the hand he isn’t using to hold onto Jenna. She guides him to the spot at the top of her stomach where she can feel the baby’s pulsing kicks and lays his hand there, smiling as his face lights up in wonder.

“Wow.” He gasps, and she can’t help giggling at the reaction; beaming.

* * *

She could swear she feels the baby kicking more throughout the next week than she has during the entire pregnancy so far. Maybe she’s just more aware of it now that he’s bigger, or maybe he really is kicking more. Regardless sometimes she finds it exciting, and sometimes she finds it downright annoying; which one depends on the time of day.

In the middle of work? Exciting, it gives her something else to focus on.

At three in the morning when she is trying to go back to sleep? Annoying.

When she’s trying to get through her Christmas shopping? A little of both.

She does most of that online, but there are a few things she goes to the mall for, mainly because Iris asks her to go along with her. She gets mostly little things for everybody, and she has no idea if she is even supposed to get a present for Carla. She’s sure that would be nice, especially since she really would like it if Carla were able to think of her as a daughter… Which was her idea. Right? She’s still trying to wrap her head around that one.

She decides to take a leap on that – on both their accounts – and by Christmas Eve she has all of her shopping done and is enjoying the S.T.A.R. Labs party.

She doesn’t understand why they have a party; they all spend Christmas together anyway and it’s not like they invite any of their out of town friends. But whatever, one extra night of her not having to cook.

The food is pretty much all put away by this point, but she can’t help that her unborn child apparently missed that memo and is still hungry. She sneaks off to the lounge where Barry had sped off and stored the leftovers, and fixes herself of a bowl of mac and cheese. She only puts it in the microwave for a few seconds, since it hasn’t cooled totally just yet and she doesn’t want the actual bowl getting so hot she won’t be able to hold it; just because the baby’s hungry doesn’t mean she plans on sitting in here all alone.

Before the microwave beeps she swipes a few peanut butter cups and stuffs them in her pocket for later. Soon as her mac and cheese is heated she grabs a fork from a drawer and the bowl from the microwave, then leaves the lounge behind and starts back for the party.

She’s almost back to the cortex, her bowl in one hand and fork in the other as she eats while she walks, and then as she comes around the final corner with the fork still on her tongue she stops in her tracks.

There’s the entrance to the cortex and the party.

And there’s Mick.


	23. Trouble: Round 2

At first all she can do is stand there, rooted in her spot with barely enough brain function to remember to take her fork from her mouth. He doesn’t see her right away, at least. Instead he’s looking into the cortex, his arms folded and soon he leans himself against the doorway like he has no intentions of moving. It’s as he adjusts himself that he sees her, and she knows it because he does a double take and then he can’t take his eyes off her.

His stunned look is enough to kick her brain back into gear, to get her to move. She continues on her way uneasily, slowing her steps the closer she gets to him. He stiffens and stands straighter, and now that she is also in the doorway she can see that he hasn’t come alone.

Sara and Ray are also in the cortex, and the party seems to have stopped completely. Instead Barry and Sara are arguing about something while Cisco, Ray, Iris, and Ralph are bent over the computers.

“What are you doing here?” She quietly asks Mick, more curious than anything else.

“Tech girl finished with the drive the shape-shifter took from the aliens.” He doesn’t _have _to look at her for the rock to settle in her chest, but he does it anyway, with the absolute most serious expression she has ever seen on him. “They’re coming back.”

Fuck.

She is going to choose to believe the heavy feeling in her chest is solely a product of dread. That she’s only scared, and rightfully so. None of it, not one single ounce, is disappointment because he’s here on business.

No, she can’t afford that.

“You guys have a plan?”

He inclines his head to the group in the cortex, of which now includes Ralph casting a worried glance at her but she meets his eyes and just hopes that her expression can convey the message that she is perfectly ok just standing next to Mick.

It doesn’t seem to work, but he turns away, and they can talk about it later.

Right now, she’s more concerned with Mick’s answer to her question.

“Working on it.”

Great.

The first step, the group inside the cortex decides, is to get in touch with everyone they rescued from the H’San Natall last time. Everyone is still accounted for and safe, thankfully, but they need to ensure things stay that way. The next step, logically, is to come up with a plan for doing that.

Barry excuses himself to make a call to John about the likelihood of being able to use an A.R.G.U.S. safe house, and once he leaves the whole room starts to break up.

Everyone - within the span of the same five seconds - one by one gives her and Mick in the doorway some degree of an awkward look. She does her best to not be bothered by it; they do have a glaringly obvious history with each other, after all.

She ends up moving into the room first, making a b-line for Ralph and the rest of the team minus Barry, while Sara and Ray take the cue to file away from the computers.

“What I miss?” She asks, “Other than the H’San Natall are back?”

“They’re not back yet.” Cisco says, his hands gripping heavily to the back of a chair. “But they’re coming.”

“Zari’s still decoding the last of the files.” Iris puts in, her hands in her jacket pockets. “But, from what the Legends could tell they’re planning a full scale assault this time around.”

Again, great.

She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say to that. She has questions, obviously, but she gets the feeling that if they had any answers to those questions then somebody would already be telling her.

As the silence among their group stretches out Iris and Cisco exchange a look, and then they’re filing out of the cortex without a word, and upon watching them go Frost realizes the three Legends are also gone.

So she’s alone with Ralph.

“So… Did Mick have anything to say?”

He tries leaning casually against the nearest desk, which ends up being anything but casual by the way.

“Just about the aliens.” She shrugs, and Ralph looks her over like he’s looking for a lie.

“But nothing about…”

“Me or the baby?” She asks, “No. He’s out, he’s made that clear.”

Those words, she supposes, are more a reminder for herself than for Ralph.

* * *

It’s no wonder she has trouble sleeping that night.

It would be better, she thinks, easier, if it were as simple as not being able to get comfortable. She’s been having that problem more and more lately, what with being well into her third trimester and all. But tonight it is no such case. There’s no persistent kicking, and the pain in her back is present but dull enough she can ignore it. So she’s left with nothing but her thoughts keeping her awake, and oh how she really wishes it could be something else.

“Hmmm.” She hums aloud, trying to keep herself out of her head. She lies there with one hand tangled in her hair; she’d reached up to move some hair from her face and found the angle comfortable, even a little soothing.

Her other hand is under the blankets and resting on her bare stomach, her fingers tracing light patterns on her stretched skin as her thoughts race about.

“I’m sorry kid.” She sighs, “Something tells me that me and your dad are always gonna be kind of messed up.”

Well, _kind of _might be an understatement.

“Here’s the thing kid, your dad and I… We don’t know each other well enough to be having a kid together, let alone know how to do it. We’re both a little messed up, which I think is why I went for him in the first place. I think his messed up could match mine.”

She thinks about those words for a second, as well as which ones should come next. In all honesty, if she weren’t pregnant she thinks that seeing Mick occasionally due to intersecting missions might bring her some excitement, some comfort. They got along well enough and… and she feels like a terrible mother even thinking this, but she thinks that had things not taken the turn they did she and Mick might have fallen back into the seamless, if odd, cooperation they had during the last big team up.

She knows, logically, that simply thinking about such a hypothetical does not make her a bad mother. Even so, she won’t say it aloud. She isn’t sure if the baby can really hear her or not, and even if he can he certainly can’t understand, but she still won’t say it.

Even if things might be easier had she never gotten pregnant, she wouldn’t change it.

She casts a sidelong glance to the cerebral inhibitor on her nightstand, and then rolls her head away. She doesn’t really want to talk to Caity right now. She probably will, eventually, but not yet. She wants to try and sort this out herself first.

Whatever this is.

* * *

Christmas morning doesn’t feel like what she thought Christmas morning would feel like. She knew there wouldn’t be much excitement or any reason to wake up at the crack of dawn. That will all come next Christmas, when she has a little boy old enough to at least notice the presents and the lights, and be curious about them all. But waking up she feels like there is a dark cloud of impending doom hanging over everything. They have no idea when the H’San Natall are planning their invasion for, and it makes it a little difficult to be excited for the rest of Christmas.

Still, they’re probably not coming today, so she decides the best thing to do will be to try and go on with Christmas.

She gets dressed starts making breakfast. She’s been slowly getting better with cooking over the past few weeks, though Caity did let her go for over a week thinking she’d mastered scrambled eggs before chiming in _“you know you’re supposed to put milk in those, right?”_

Needless to say, it had not been her proudest day.

But now she’s gotten the hang of it, and she’s still destroying her bacon with the microwave but hey, baby steps.

She’s just finished pouring a glass of milk when her phone buzzes. It’s Barry, texting their whole group.

_Barry: So bad news. Can’t get a safe house from A.R.G.U.S., they’re a mess right now._

She frowns, dread settling into her chest.

_Ralph: What about star labs?  
_

_Barry: Plan B. We pissed them off, aliens might hit us first._

She sighs, puts the phone down and tries to eat her breakfast without worrying about it, and has very little success. They need to find some place to hide the kids and their families from the H’San Natall, and if they don’t have the support of A.R.G.U.S. then where are they supposed…

Her eyes widen as she realizes she might know a place.

She picks her phone up again, her breath held as she searches through her contacts. She’d almost deleted this number months ago, she probably should’ve, actually, but…

She taps the name the opens up the “message” option.

_I need a favor._ She types out but then she stops, hesitating. He’ll want to meet up, should she tell him she can’t? But then he’ll think she’s hiding something, which…

Oh screw it. She’s hiding something from his friends, but, she decides, not from him.

_Call or meet up?_

There’s no answer at first, not that she’s expecting one right away. She slips her phone into her back pocket then gets up and cleans her dishes. She brushes her teeth, does her hair and make-up, and tries very hard to keep her mind off of the impending alien invasion for a good long while before her phone finally buzzes with an answer to her question.

_Norvock: Not talking business over the phone. Same old spot?_

She types back quickly.

_No. Come to star labs, alone._

A minute passes by before her phone buzzes again.

_Norvock: Not falling for that trap._

She rolls her eyes with a scoff.

_Not a trap dickwad, you haven’t done anything stupid lately. Right?_

This time it is more than one minute that she has to sit through before getting an answer.

_Norvock: You lock me up, I’ll kill you._

She smirks, now for the hard part.

* * *

“You called Norvock?!”

Yep, Merry Christmas to her.

Instead of being at Joe’s house and exchanging presents their entire team is gathered at S.T.A.R. Labs after she texted the group chat that she might have a plan.

So far, Barry does not approve.

“He still has control of some of Amunet’s safe houses.” She tries to reason.

After they helped him and most of Amunet’s other former lackeys escape from Cicada a lot of them ended up attempting to turn over new leaves, or at least lay know. Frost isn’t sure who is in charge of Central City’s general crime ring these days, she doesn’t think it’s Norvock, but whoever it is there is no way he gave up _every _location of Amunet’s hideouts; new leaf or not.

“The H’San Natall will search S.T.A.R. Labs and maybe every place the kids have ever been. They won’t look at our enemies hideouts.”

“Frost.” Ralph says, stepping towards her with his hands pressed tightly together, and he actually looks more pissed about this than Barry. “Even if Norvock is willing to help us, if he sees you-”

“I trust him.” She interrupts before he can finish that train of thought.

“He’s tried to kill you before.” Iris puts in, her arms folded.

“Two years ago.” She reminds her friend, a challenge rising in her voice. “A lot’s changed since then.”

Well, none of them can deny that.

“Look,” she says, addressing the group as a whole. “I don’t trust a lot of people from my villain days, but I trust Norvock.”

The room is deafeningly silent. Each of her friends considering her words, and she’s holding her breath waiting for an answer.

“Ok.” Barry eventually says, “Norvock’s been off the crime radars for awhile. If you trust him, we will too.”

The others all look to be still on a variety of levels of comfortable with that. Cisco seems somewhere between indifferent and fine, Iris about on Barry’s level, and Ralph…

Ralph has a very begrudging expression on his face that she is going to have to deal with later.

For now, however, she can hear the heavy falls of boots coming down the hall.

“Alright.” She hears Norvock before she sees him. “What’s going-”

He cuts himself off as he enters the doorway, his one eye fixed very obviously on her.

“Whoa.” He remarks; eyebrow still shot up to his hairline even as he finally drags his attention up to her face. “Wasn’t expecting that. This why I haven’t been seeing you on the news?”

She rolls her eyes, her arms crossed and consequently resting on top of her bump.

“Didn’t seem practical.” She says, and he take a cautious step into the room.

“Right…” He trails, looking around, seizing up the cortex and all of its occupants. “So, what’s going on?”

“Short version?” She asks, not that she waits for an answer. “There’s an alien invasion coming. There are about sixteen people we _know _they’re targeting specifically; half of them are kids. We need a safe house, some place off the map. Can you help us out?”

She never can tell what it is that Norvock is thinking, but usually she’s able to determine whether it’ll benefit her or not. Right now, though, his face is blank.

Until, finally, he shrugs.

“I might know a place.” He says, “But it’s not much with security.”

“Don’t worry.” She says with a smirk. “We can handle that.”


	24. Merry Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... this took awhile. I had some real life crap pop up, and then some writers block. So you know, my usual. Hope you enjoy!

Getting all of the kids and their families to Norvock’s place turns out to be a lot easier said than done. It’s Christmas, and turns out that on Christmas day they would rather all be with their families than hiding from some alien invasion that might come today. It isn’t until Zari contacts them saying she’s found the projected invasion date that they finally give in and let the kids enjoy their Christmas as much as possible.

They have six days to prepare.

Five really, because they’ll start tomorrow.

For today, they’re going to try and enjoy what’s left of it.

“Hey.” It’s Joe, of all people, who approaches Frost in the hallway right after they’ve made the call to wait until tomorrow to deal with everything.

“Yeah?” She asks, scrunching her nose. He looks worried, which is understandable given how today has gone so far, it’s the fact that the worry seems to be directed at her that has her on edge.

He looks around, as if to confirm they’re alone, and even then he keeps his voice hushed.

“I was gonna invite the Legends over for Christmas dinner.” He says, and he pauses a beat, gauging her for a reaction. “If that’s alright with you?”

Her mind blanks.

“Uh… Yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, unconvinced.

“Yeah.” She stammers, “Yeah it’s… You don’t, I mean thank you for asking me but you don’t have to.”

He snickers, “Frost.” He says, his voice forewarning that he is about to slip into his well-known parenting mode. “You kids are my family, alright? I’m not bringing anyone into my house if one of you isn’t comfortable with it, ok?”

She smiles, a feeling of warmth spreading in her chest.

“Ok. Thank you.” She says, “But it’s ok, really. Mick and I can’t spend our lives avoiding each other.”

Joe smiles and clasps her on the shoulder.

“Ok.” He says, and then he leaves her, likely off to the Waverider to let the Legends know about dinner.

She sighs, one hand settling anxiously on her stomach. She knows she’s right in what she’s said; she and Mick can’t go out of the way to avoid each other.

Although maybe Mick doesn’t feel that way.

He doesn’t come.

The other Legends do, and that even includes a pit-bull sized dragon on a leash held by Nate, but no Mick.

It seems like there’s a silent agreement not to acknowledge it, and Frost can’t tell if that is a blessing or a curse. She would think that him not being here would make it that much easier for her to not think about him; out of sight out of mind, right? But instead he’s all she can think about. She can’t stop wondering where he is, and if he skipped because he doesn’t like parties or because he doesn’t want to see her.

Probably both.

“Hey Wicksty, get down. No!” Nate scolds his dragon when it jumps up onto the couch in the vacant seat next to her.

The dragon – Wicksty – hops down with his head hung low and sulks across the room to his master.

“Sorry.” Nate says, “He’s a cuddler.”

She shrugs; frankly she couldn’t care less. Of all the things she’s worried about right now, the dragon-dog is barely in the top five.

“He’s also a food thief.” Zari comments as she comes and plants herself on Nate’s lap, a plate of cookies in one hand while the other reaches down to scratch Wicksty behind the ear; an action that has the dragon purring lowly.

“You know, there are actual chairs available.” Nate says to her, exasperated.

“Save them for other people.” Zari replies around a mouthful of cookie.

Nate sighs and shakes his head, then tries to grab a cookie from Zari’s plate, which ends in his hand being slapped.

“Ow!”

“Get your own.”

Nate huffs and looks out at her, shaking his head with exasperation. “Can you believe this?”

She snorts and gets up, “You’re the one dating her.”

Once up she goes into the kitchen to hunt down the cookies that Zari had, and then she’s at a loss. She doesn’t want to go back to the living room and sit awkwardly by herself among all the festivities. She knows she could seek out Ralph, or Iris, or anyone from her team really, but she hates to feel like she’s clinging on to them.

“Hey.” It’s Ralph who interrupts her thoughts, approaching her with a worried look on his face. “Are you ok?”

She presses her lips firmly together and debates her options, and all the while she can see his worry increasing.

“Mmhmm.” She ends up humming, in possibly the highest and fakest pitch she has ever in her life used. “Yeah. I’m fine. But uh… I think I’m gonna go.”

“Are you sure?”

No, she isn’t sure. But she’s committed now.

“Yeah.” She says, “It’s getting late and I’m kind of tired. Besides, we’re gonna have a lot to do in the next few days, I should probably sleep while I can.”

Ralph doesn’t look entirely convinced, or convinced at all, but it isn’t like he can stop her.

“Ok.” He says, “Well call me if you need something.”

“I will.” She nods, “Thanks.”

With that settled she bids goodbye to everyone and within fifteen minutes she is outside and getting into her car.

Now what?

She should do what she said and go home and get some sleep. She wasn’t wrong in saying the next few days are going to be eventful, and likely restless. She should try and get some sleep while she has the time.

So why does she end up driving past her building?

She sighs to herself as she hits a red light, her thumbs drumming on the rim of the wheel.

“This is a bad idea.” She mutters, but when the light turns green she doesn’t take the left to turn around.

She pulls into the distantly familiar parking lot of a pool hall.

For a moment she stays in her car, thinking. It isn’t too late to turn back now. She doesn’t have to go in, she doesn’t even know if he’s in there.

She groans at the mess she is about to create, and decides that if he isn’t in there then she’ll go right home. But she came this far; she’ll go in.

Walking into the pool hall she sees him immediately. He’s sitting at the bar, so at least she isn’t going to have to worry about losing her balance trying to lean over a pool table. She starts approaching him and he looks over his shoulder, and then does a double take not unlike the one he pulled last night at S.T.A.R. Labs. He keeps his mouth shut while she clamors onto the empty stool next to him, his eyes on his beer the entire time.

“What are you doing here?” He finally asks once she’s settled.

“I could ask you the same question.”

Mick grunts, and raises a finger towards the bartender. He orders a soda for her, and she isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be a peace offering or something else; but either way she doesn’t have it in her to tell him she isn’t much of a fan of Coke.

“You’re not missing much.” She says, stirring the straw around her soda. “Just the usual loud, happy party.”

He hums. “Didn’t think I was.”

He takes another sip if his beer, and they’re quiet for a long minute after that. She keeps stirring the bubbles in her drink, loath to actually take a sip.

“You uh…” He finally starts, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “You ever figure out the kid’s back?”

Right, she’d told him she would keep him in the loop on that.

“Not yet.” She answers, “I’ve been thinking about it, I’m supposed to go in for a scan after New Years. I think I’m gonna ask about surgery, what I’ve read online seems like if he’s a good candidate he should be able to live his life like it never happened.”

He hums and nods in a way that hints he’s happy about that, or happy as he gets anyway.

She purses her lips and stirs her drink again. A thought echoes in her head, a thought of suggesting he come with her to the appointment if he is so curious, but she isn’t going to bring that up again. He doesn’t want to be that involved, or involved at all, maybe. He cares enough to keep asking about things, to offer child support, but not enough to involve himself with the baby, or with her.

“What do you want?” She finds herself asking through a sigh before she can filter the words, and Mick looks at her with a furrowed brow and, ok, maybe she could’ve put that better.

“I mean…” She trails, trying to sort out what _exactly _it is that she does mean. “This kid is going to be here in three months, and I know you don’t want to parent it, but obviously our paths are going to cross. You’re gonna see the kid at some point, so like… do you want him to know you’re his dad?”

She pauses there, gauging him for a reaction. It makes her grimace with pity, the way he blinks and very slowly fumbles for his beer. It’s almost like he is just now realizing that involved or not he is going to have a kid in the world. She wonders, absently, if this is the first thought he’s giving to it since the last time they saw each other. Does he ever think about her, or the baby, while he’s off fighting his way through time and space?

Judging by the sudden paleness of his face, obviously not.

“Or… Do you want to just be Mick?”

It’s still another minute before he answer her, in which time she finally takes a sip of her drink and hopes her hatred of it doesn’t show on her face. Even if it does, at least he isn’t in much of a mindset to notice.

“I uh…. What were you thinking?” He asks quietly, and her grip tightens on her glass and her jaw sets with a sudden onset of pissed off.

“I don’t know.” She answers, her tone almost even but tipping a little bit into venomous territory. “I hadn’t given it much thought.”

She hasn’t given it any thought all, until now, and right now she just wants him to tell her. She gets that he doesn’t want to _be _a dad to their son, and that is fine, but she would appreciate it if he could make this one call. The decision of what their kid will know him as. It is the actual bare minimum he can do, making that decision.

Yet he remains quiet, staring intensely at his beer, and as the anger in her system bubbles higher and higher with each second that passes she is grateful for it in a way, as it decides something she’s been turning over in her head since almost the start of the pregnancy.

She slides off her stool, not gracefully, and ignores the surprised look on his face as he watches her.

“Whatever.” She huffs, leaning her hands on the seat of the stool. “Oh, and by the way, I don’t want any child support.”

She doesn’t feel great about leaving him there on that snappy note, but she can’t bring herself to feel guilty either. So she doesn’t look back as she leaves, fully aware that this is not the last she’ll be seeing of him in the next few days.

* * *

Ralph has been home for all of three minutes when he hears a hard knock on his door. He’s confused, understandably, but it’s Christmas, he’s not going to stiff someone on Christmas.

He isn’t expecting to see Frost on the other side; scowling and holding a box wrapped in snowman paper under her arm.

“Uh…” He trails out, and in response Frost practically shoves the box into his arms and marches her way past him and into his apartment.

“I found Mick.” She grumbles as she walks in, and in one sense that is all the explanation he needs.

In another sense, it raises about a billion questions.

“Um…” Apparently that is the only thing he’s capable of saying right now, but that’s probably ok. He’s getting the feeling she didn’t come here looking for him to talk.

“I should’ve just let him skip out on Christmas,” she starts her rant, pacing around his living room with ice misting at her fingertips. “He doesn’t want to come around, and I get that. Fine, whatever! But he’s going to, he has to, because the world is going to keep being in danger, and our stupid little crossovers are going to keep happening!”

He winces and closes the front door, and he stands silent while she continues on her brigade.

“And like, I don’t think I really want to tell the kid he’s his dad. It’s bad enough he’s gonna grow up without a dad; I’m not really sure I want him seeing that jackass every now and then and knowing it. But you know, I figured that’s Mick’s hole to dig. But no, he won’t even do that!”

She stops then to catch her breath, and Ralph will jot it down as a small miracle that nothing in his apartment is incased in ice yet. She seems to be nearing the end of her tirade, so he hastily places the box she’d handed him on the nearest table and steps into the living room.

“Ok, take a deep breathe, rewind, and start from the beginning please.” He instructs, and she closes her eyes and does as asked.

The mist disappears from her hands, and after she sinks onto the couch he takes the seat next to her.

“Ok.” She breathes, “So, I have realized that Mick and I are not going to be able to avoid each other. So I went and I asked him if he would like for me to raise the baby knowing he’s his absent father, or if he would rather the baby not know that.”

“Ok…” Ralph says, nodding along. “And… What did he say?”

Based on what he understood of her rant he thinks he already knows what Mick said, and the scowl that comes over her face now as she flops her head back confirms it.

“He asked me what my plan was.” She sucks in another deep breath following the words, her fists curling at her sides until she releases the oxygen. “I know I’m doing this alone.” She mutters, “So I know every decision is on me, but… I don’t know. I guess I just want him to care but…”

She trails off, and with a frown and a mental note to be angry with Mick later, Ralph grabs one of her hands.

“Hey.” He says firmly, as she lolls her head to look at him. “You are not doing this alone. You have us.”

She smiles, a tired and amused smile through tight lips and closed eyes, but he’ll take it.

“I know.” She says, and then she reclaims her hand and straightens herself up. “Now, go open your present.”

At first he just blinks at her, then he remembers the box. He had been so distracted by her marching about he hadn’t so much as glanced at the tag. Without a word he gets up and scrambles to remember where he put it, and after he finds it on the ledge of the end table by the TV he hurries back to the couch.

“I uh… I left your present at Joe’s.” He confesses. With the Legends joining the party they had decided to wait on exchanging gifts, but his gifts for the others had already been under Joe’s tree and, well, he figured they would all end up back over there anyway so he hadn’t gathered them up.

“It’s fine.” She chuckles, “Please open it.”

He does as he’s told, carefully undoing the tape along the seams of the thin paper and trying to rip it as little as possible, mostly for the purpose of drawing this out when he can tell her patience are already wearing thin.

Finally, he makes it to the blank white box inside, and carefully he lifts up the lid and peels away the tissue paper, and then he lets out a laugh.

“Do you like it?” She asks, and he can hear the touch of nervousness in her voice despite the grin on her face, because it is evident on his face that the likes it.

He takes the t-shirt out of the box and holds it up. It’s a dark blue color, and written along it in big block font is _#1 Uncle._

“I love it.” He says, “In fact, I am going to keep it somewhere I can see it everyday, so that I don’t forget to wear it to the hospital on the day you have the baby.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I’m glad you like it.” She says, one hand stroking along the top of her belly. “It’s a lot easier to deal with my son not having a father, knowing he’s going to have an uncle like you.”

That is without question the best thing anyone has ever said to him, and he can’t think of anything that he could say to it. Instead he finds himself bringing his arm around her, guiding her along as she happily settles her head onto his shoulder.

It’s been a long day, and they have even longer ones coming. But as he presses a kiss to the top of her hair, he thinks they might just come out of it all ok.


	25. Calls to Make

After sitting there on his couch for only a few minutes Ralph suggests that they finally watch _Alien_, given that they are about to face off against an army of said creatures and Frost still absolutely needs to see it. Of course she falls asleep in the first twenty minutes, still curled into his side with her head on his shoulder. She looks so peaceful that for a while Ralph doesn’t have the heart to wake her. But eventually he finds himself struggling to keep his eyes open as well so he shifts just enough that she stirs and starts to wake up.

“Hey.” He whispers as she blinks her eyes open and sits up. “It’s late.”

“Ok.” She mumbles through a yawn, “Sorry.” She leans herself forward, one hand gripping at the very edge of the couch while she uses the other to rub sleep from her eyes. “Just… Just give me a minute to wake up.”

He smirks and gets up himself, an idea popping into his head that he debates for all of a few seconds, but really it’s no debate at all.

“You want to sleep here tonight?” He offers, and the look she gives him is one that suggests he is completely insane.

“Come on,” He tries, “We’ve got an early day tomorrow, and no offence but the last thing we need is you falling asleep behind the wheel. Come on you can take my bed, I’ll take the couch, and we can get right to work in the morning.”

She doesn’t answer at first, which he supposes is better than a flat out “no”.

“I feel bad kicking you out of your bed.” She eventually says, her voice soft and guilty, and he chuckles and offers her a hand.

“Don’t worry about it, one advantage of being made out of silly putty is any place is a comfortable place to sleep.”

She smirks at that, and accepts his offered hand and allows him to pull her to her feet. It takes more effort on his part than he was actually expecting, but he’s smart enough to not say anything about that.

He gives her a shirt to wear in place of pajamas, and after retrieving a pillow and one of his spare blankets he makes himself comfortable on the couch and tries to drift off.

Tries.

He can’t stop thinking about… Everything.

The aliens, Mick and Frost, the baby, when _Criminal Minds _is coming back… But mostly the first few things.

On one hand, he wants to hate Mick. He would like more than anything to think of Mick as a deadbeat, a jackass, a lowlife, the list could go on. A part of him does hate him, in fact. There is a part of him that shares in Frost’s frustration over him refusing to make the decision over what his own son will know him as. Another part of him feels almost sorry for him. After the time he spent with Mick in the confines of the Waverider’s jump ship he knows that Mick does_ like _Frost, though maybe not as more than a friend. Or maybe he could have liked her more, if they’d had the time before all of this. Mick cares, but what he’s doing isn’t helping show it, and maybe Ralph has every right to blame him for that. Maybe-

The sound of a creaking floorboard wakes him and he sits up to see Frost shrinking back around the corner, only to realize that she’s been caught and come back out into the main area of the apartment.

“Sorry.” She squeaks, “I was hoping you were asleep.”

He shrugs as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch.

“No worries, what’s up?”

She looks… Nervous.

She chews at the edge of her lip, a debate taking place in her mind that he wishes he could hear.

“I uh… I was just going to steal some peanut butter and… Something. Crackers hopefully, but I’m not sure what you have.”

It takes him a minute to process that, and when he finally does it is all he can do to keep from laughing out loud. She looks so ashamed of herself, and that only makes it funnier.

“Well, I don’t have either of those things.” He says as he gets up, and Frost deflates a little bit with the disappointment.

He starts for the door, and he is well aware of her padding after him with what he is sure is some confusion, but he ignores it and slips his feet into his boots and then grabs his jacket.

“Where are you going?” She asks while he gets the jacket on.

“To get peanut butter and… Crackers? Are you sure that’s what you want?”

It isn’t the strangest combination - surely nothing will ever beat the bologna and pickles she ate in his car that one night – but still, maybe she wants something else but had assumed she wouldn’t be able to find it in his kitchen.

But she nods, hastily, and with a bit of surprise in her face but that starts to fade out quick enough.

“Saltines, if they have them. Thanks.”

He almost wants to ask if she’s SURE she wants the blandest crackers on the planet, but he supposes that’s what the peanut butter is for, so he simply nods and tells her he’ll be back soon.

* * *

Once Ralph is gone Frost lets out a long, sighing breath. She paces around his apartment, trying to figure out the best course of action from here on out. Sleeping in his bed hadn’t felt too odd, but the thought of going and sinking down on his mattress does. The couch also feels like an intrusion, given that his pillow and blanket are still set up there for the night. So she paces, and she doesn’t really register that she’s been running one hand over the bulge of her stomach until she feels a light tap against her palm.

“Hm, you’re awake too?” She asks to her baby, and she doesn’t receive a kick in reply per-say but she can still feel him moving around in there, squirming to make himself more comfortable, and it feels… freaky. That’s a good word for it. Freaky, but still good.

She sighs and goes and sits in the chair tucked into the corner of the living room, not the most comfortable seat but for right now it’s perfect.

“Remind me, kid.” She says, still running a hand along the surface of her bump, covered in Ralph’s shirt. “What did we do to deserve someone like Uncle Ralph?”

She can’t think of an answer to that question, and her baby obviously doesn’t have one. Ralph returns not long later and soon the two of them are sitting at his kitchen table; her with her peanut butter and crackers and him with a pint of ice cream he decided he wanted while he was out.

“So tomorrow,” he says, trying to stab his spoon through the frozen surface of his snack. “You’re going with Norvock, right?”

“Yes.” She confirms, “Don’t worry, I am not going alien hunting with you.”

He frowns into his ice cream. The plan is for her and Norvock to keep an eye on the kids and their parents at his hideout, while Cisco and Iris run coms and various other ground control type things from S.T.A.R. Labs, and everyone else goes in The Waverider to intercept the H’San Natall’s fleet and – hopefully – stop them from invading Earth once and for all.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather be at the lab?”

She glares at him, knowing full well that what he means is _he _would rather she be at the lab. She knows he trusts her and her judgment, but he doesn’t entirely trust Norvock and they all know that any place the kids are is going to be a big target for the invasion party.

“Yes.” She says, plain and simple. “I’ll be fine. Norvock and I can handle a few aliens _if _they even show. Besides, we’ll have eight super-powered teenagers on our side.”

“Super-powered teenagers you’re supposed to be protecting.”

“They’re teenagers.” She emphasizes, “Not little kids.”

“So what?” He asks, his face a cross of offended and… worried, she thinks; or something close to it. “If things get dangerous you’re not gonna move them?”

“That’s not what I mean.” She says firmly, taking a bite from one of her crackers. “I’m just saying, if things do get tough and everyone else is off in space, it makes me feel a lot better knowing Norvock and I aren’t the only ones down here who can take a punch.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, and she isn’t sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. She doesn’t want the kids getting involved in the fight any more than anybody else, but the reality is that it might be unavoidable. They’ve taken on a full-scale alien invasion before, and there were a _lot _of ground attacks involved in that. Granted, this time they have a bit of a heads up, and supposedly the H’San Natall won’t be anywhere near close enough to Earth that they could touch down tomorrow. They’re due to arrive in about a week, so hopefully sending the fight to space will discourage them into turning back home and that will be that.

But with their problems, things are never that simple.

* * *

When morning comes Frost puts on her clothes from yesterday, thanks Ralph for everything, and after wishing each other good luck she heads for the address Norvock had texted her.

He’s already waiting there when she arrives, standing out front of the large building with his hands deep in his pockets and his usual scowl on his face.

“A sawmill?” She asks, frowning as she steps out of her car. “Isn’t that a little cliché?”

“It was this or a one-room apartment. Or my bar, and space invaders ain’t getting my bar.”

Fair enough.

The inside of the sawmill isn’t quite as desolate looking as the outside, though it feels at least ten degrees colder. Norvock’s got a bulky old TV set up with bunny-eared antennas in front of a lumpy couch that looks like the duct tape on the edges is the only thing holding it together. He’s got a fold out table and a mix of chairs and overturned crates spread throughout the room, as well as a pile of blankets on the end of the couch.

“Wow.” She comments, “If I didn’t know better I’d say you put some effort into this.”

He hums, low and annoyed; something that has her lips quirking into a tiny smirk.

He does care, at least a little bit.

“Let’s just get this camp out over with.”

She chuckles as he walks away, over to a cooler he has stashed in a corner and pulls out a beer.

The kids and their parents arrive not too long later. Most of them are all varying degrees of worried and annoyed, with of course the exception of three: Isaiah, Toni, and Cody.

“No.” Frost says, firm as she can manage with the feeling of her brain short-circuiting after what she has just heard. “You are not going on The Waverider.”

“Come on.” Isaiah pleads, “The H’San Natall are the ones who did this to us, we deserve to fight.”

She purses her lips and settles her hands low on her hips, trying to process the utter ridiculousness of this.

“Did this to you?” She demands, “Did what? You aren’t some science experiments they played around with, they helped create you and then they attempted to brainwash you into being their puppets.”

“They gave us powers.” Toni interjects.

“And did they teach you how to use them?” She doesn’t get an answer, but instead three heads hung in silence. “They have powers too, and decades of military training in how to use them effectively.”

None of the three say anything to that, despite how hard they all appear to be trying to come up with something. She sighs, suddenly aware in the quiet that everyone else is watching them.

“If things get rough down here I want you guys helping.” She tells them, and she means it. “But I am _not _sending you against those things if I don’t have to.”

The three teenagers remain quiet at first; exchanging glances among each other in a silent communication before Isaiah finally looks to her.

“You think they’ll really make it down here?” He asks, “You guys made it in and out easy last time.”

Before answering she rolls the plan over in her head along with a few things that could go wrong. They did do good last time, but it was only a rescue mission that time, and even so she is still surprised they got in and out easy as they did.

“Lightning doesn’t strike twice.”

* * *

Mick isn’t paying much attention to what’s going on even as the ship materializes in the depths of space. Not even the sight of Stretch-Armstrong stumbling right into the console after the jump is enough to gain his focus.

“Ok.” Sara says, leaning onto the console and pulling up the schematics of the alien’s ship. “So the plan is to try reasoning with them, and when that fails… well, we’ll go from there. But study the ship, just in case.”

The others all start murmuring among themselves, but Mick knows what she means. The _plan _for after negotiation fails is to regroup and see what the aliens come at them with, but the _reality _is they’ll probably shoot for The Waverider right then and there, so they might have to make an emergency rush to the jump ship and infiltrate the enemy and take ‘em out from the inside.

He sighs as his thoughts consume him once again, now that he’s thinking about reality and all.

_“Our paths are going to cross. You’re gonna see the kid at some point, so like… do you want him to know you’re his dad?”_

He’s been playing that question over in his mind ever since Frost – Crystal - stormed out of the bar, after his stupid ass didn’t answer her.

What was he thinking?

Nothing. He was thinking absolutely nothing. He was too busy wrapping his head around the fact that she’s right. Her and this kid… it’s not going to be easy as out of sight out of mind. He’ll see them once a year or so on the big missions - since this track record of threats ain’t showing any signs of changing. He’ll see bits and pieces of his kid’s life. So long as he doesn’t get himself killed any time in the near future he’s gonna see his kid crawl, walk, might even see him in a jersey for one of those pee-wee soccer leagues where the kids barely understand to kick the ball.

He sighs, he’s got a headache, and loath as he is to admit it there’s only one person he can think of who might be able to help him.

_Might._

Most of the others are gone from the bridge now, except for Sara who is watching him closely as he turns for the hall, but it doesn’t matter; he knows where to go.

It’s not a long walk from the bridge to the lab, though a part of him wishes it were; it’d be good for thinking.

Ray is hovering around his suit with a screwdriver, lost in his own world as always. Mick doesn’t make his presence know right away, he braces himself for what’s to come instead, and then finally he clears his throat and Ray looks up with a smile that flickers away in an instant; Mick supposes he doesn’t look too casual here.

“What’s up?” Ray asks, and he huffs.

“You ah… You’re good at feelings, right?”

That not-smile turns into a full out frown at that.

“I guess.” Ray says, putting down his screwdriver. “I mean, I would say I am, and I’ve met a lot of people who would probably say the same thing if you asked. But I don’t know if-”

“Haircut.” He barks, and the bumbling idiot promptly shuts himself up and pulls over a stool that he sits down on.

“Right.” He says, “Right, sorry. Um… What’s going on?”

He growls, not threateningly but his thinking sort of growl. He starts wandering a bit, picking up little odds and ends and well aware of Ray watching him the entire time.

“It’s Frost.” He finally relents, “She uh… She asked me if I want the kid knowing who I am.”

A speechless Ray Palmer is a rare sight – some might even say such a thing is impossible. But this wide-eyed look accompanied by a gaping mouth, even if it only lasts for a few seconds; that’s what this is.

“And?” He finally comes out with. “What did you say?”

Mick frowns, his eyes flicking to the selection of tools on the workbench before he picks up a screwdriver and starts twirling it clumsily around his fingers, his eyes trained on it and it alone.

“I didn’t.”

Another few rare seconds of stunned quiet.

“You didn’t?”

He hums.

“What do you mean you-?”

“I mean I didn’t.” He snaps, firm and low. “I asked her what she wanted to do.”

“And what did she say?”

He sighs, and he stops twirling the screwdriver and instead leans back against the counter and looks up to the ceiling.

“Said she hadn’t thought about it. Then she left.”

And that… That still hurts. It reminded him too much of that day when she told him she was keeping the baby – the same day she told him she was pregnant – and he watched her leave the med-bay. Felt too much like last time, when she asked him if he would come to her appointment and he told her no. This time, though, this time was worse. He’s pushed her away twice now, but this time he pissed her off. The first two times he’s sure he was one hell of a disappointment, but at least she wasn’t mad at him. Ok, she probably was, probably still is. She probably-

“Well,” Ray starts, “Have you thought-”

“I like her.” He blurts out, like they’re kids in Jr. High or some shit like that. Ray’s looking at him wide-eyed and speechless again, and this time he doesn’t end up finding the words. Despite the circumstances it’s enough to make the corner of his lips tilt up in a smirk, if only for a second.

“I ain’t ready to be a dad.” He says, his voice low, partially he’s talking to himself more than to Ray. “But Frost… There’s something about her. She’s different than… Than anyone. If things were different-”

“Well they’re not, Mick.”

He’s pretty sure he’s never heard Haircut so blunt, so serious. At the very least, it’s been a damn while.

Ray looks around for a minute, fidgets, and Mick’s known him long enough at this point that he knows this is his trying to sort out all of the many, many things he wants to say.

“Just… Just for a minute, Mick, forget about being a dad.”

He raises an eyebrow, but Ray keeps going on that.

“Obviously you feel strongly for Frost, ok, great. Now keep in mind that she has a kid on the way. Don’t think about the fact that it’s your kid, pretend it isn’t, if you have to.”

“Whose kid is it?”

“What? It doesn’t matter.”

“Course it matters.”

Ray rolls his eyes, and he is only trying to push his buttons for the sake of pushing them – mostly – so he grunts and leans back to listen again.

“For five seconds, it’s not your kid. But it is hers. She hasn’t changed since that first time you slept with her, but her situation has.”

He pauses there, gives him a minute to process what he’s saying, Mick supposes.

“Whether the baby’s been born yet or not she is a mom now, and her baby is always going to be her first priority. So you have to ask yourself, is that something you can accept?”

He thinks, and really he doesn’t have to think because _of course _he can accept that. He’s even sure that if he were involved he could make the kid his top priority no question. The problem is he’s not involved; he _can’t _be involved.

“Once you figure that out.” Ray continues, “Then you can remember the kid is yours, and you can ask yourself what’s best for everyone given the circumstances.”

He nods, and he’s not really looking at Ray but he can still see him starting to grin out of the corner of his eye; smug bastard really has no business knowing how smart he is.

He’s about to say as much, but Sara’s voice comes over the intercom.

“Everyone to the bridge; we’ve made contact.”


	26. Before the Storm

The H’San Natall are ugly.

That is the first thing to go through Ralph’s head when they get in contact with what they understand is the equivalent of a Commander.

Commander of what exactly they aren’t entirely sure, but it’s a start.

He looks like if a kid took a giant wad of chewed bubble gum and molded it all together over a giant thumb, then took two birch branches and turned them upside down on either side of the head, with another weird spiny bone running through the middle. He also has two tusk-like shards of bone sticking out of either cheek instead of being included in the mouth of sharp, snaggleteeth. But the scariest part – in Ralph’s opinion – would have to be the blood red eyes.

He can see why these guys are fond of shape shifting.

“Commander Pylon speaking.” The alien snarls at them, his weird bones arching together like a pair of angry eyebrows. “What do you want?”

Well, right to the point then.

“Commander Pylon, I’m Captain Sara Lance of The Waverider. My team and I represent Earth-”

“Ugh, that wasteland.” The commander interrupts. “We’re planning to use that planet as a training ground.”

Barry steps to Sara’s side right then, and while Ralph is a little concerned himself he’s not sure he wants to put himself personally on the bad side of these guys; not yet anyway.

“A training ground for what?”

“For our warriors.” The commander answers, clearly unamused by the question. “Once we’ve eradicated your pathetic species, we will use the planet to train our military.”

“You do realize there are at least seven other planets in our system alone that currently don’t have anyone living on them?” Ray asks, “I mean, Mars is still up for debate, but that could make eight!”

“Yes,” The commander agrees, “But your planet has cities and various other terrains already constructed. The tactical advantages of taking your planet are the most beneficial in your system.”

“Ok, Commander Pylon.” Sara butts back in before this can go on much longer. “Obviously we don’t want you taking over our planet, but nobody here wants an intergalactic war. So before we pull that trigger, is there anything we can do to convince you not to invade Earth?”

Ralph has no idea what part of this is more surprising; the fact that Sara is trying to reason with a hostile alien armada, or the fact that the commander has a considering expression on his face.

“If you Terrans truly want your planet spared, I can arrange a trial by combat. If you win, we will abandon our quest of Earth. If you lose, however, while the rest of your race is eradicated your fleet will be kept alive as laborers.”

Sara doesn’t respond to that right away, neither does anyone else, and so the commander takes the opportunity as one to continue.

“I suggest you consider surrender.”

“Not an option.” Sara retorts, the decision apparently made. “Trial by combat it is. Where should we meet you?”

Commander Pylon, let it be noted, does not look thrilled by their acceptance.

“There is an arena in the Northern Quadrant. I will send the coordinates to your ship.”

Sara beams at him, humoring. “Please and thank you.” She says, and then she cuts the feed.

Their group is quiet in the minutes that follow, until finally Ralph decides that someone needs to say something.

“So… Are we really going into a trial by combat against them?”

Sara sighs and turns away from the main console. It’s clear by the look on her face that she is still running different scenarios through her mind; all of the ways this could go.

“The H’San Natall are known for conquering by any means necessary.” She finally says, reminding them of what they learned reading the accounts of H’San Natall history last time. “The trial will only hold them off for a little while, and that’s if we win. They’ll still invade no matter what. Half of us – our heaviest hitters – will go against them in the trail. The other half will sneak on their ship like last time, see if there’s a real way to take them down.”

“And…” Barry trails, his hands on his hips in that way he puts them when he’s starting to seriously worry. “If there isn’t?”

Sara holds his gaze, her face as serious as Ralph has ever seen it.

“We’re gonna need some more back-up.”

* * *

This sucks.

Half a day cooped up in this freezing cold sawmill with eight teenagers ranging from pissed off to freaked out, as well as all of their irritated and equally freaked out parents, sucks.

Frost is taking a break from all the bickering and occasional power testing, standing on one of the catwalks and listening to the deafening silence of her comm in her ear instead of the jumble of conversations below.

“You sure you should be up here?”

It’s Norvock, standing at the end of the catwalk, and she smirks as she leans back against the railing bars.

“I’m not that heavy.” She informs him, and he snickers and starts to approach.

“I didn’t say you were.” He promises, and he tips the beer bottle in his hand her way. “Don’t worry, non-alcoholic.”

Her confused expression quickly turns up into a smirk. She trusts him, but she checks the label regardless because, well, she didn’t actually know non-alcoholic beer was a thing.

She can see him from the corner of her eye repressing a chuckle when she all but spits her first sip back into the bottle. Apparently non-alcoholic beer _is _a thing, but it really shouldn’t be.

“So,” Norvock starts, his voice showing every sign of his obvious amusement. “Gotta ask. If this hadn’t come up, would you have ever told me about the squirt?”

He sounds more genuinely curious than offended, and so she takes a moment to turn the question over in her mind.

She’s known since the beginning that some of her old friends knowing about the baby could be a hazard. Norvock, though, she had thought of him early on, and thought of him as maybe the only one who could be trusted. Still, just because he could be trusted it doesn’t mean some of the people in his social circle could.

Or any of them for that matter.

“Probably.” She decides, taking another sip of the awful “beer” and forcing herself to swallow this time, even with a grimace. “Not gonna lie though, probably would’ve waited long as I could and even then there would’ve been mortal danger.”

He nods, an amused smile crossing his face.

“I get’cha.” He says, “I ain’t exactly part of a world you want the kid in.”

She hums. It sounds awful when he puts it like that, but she can’t argue it.

“No.” She agrees, “But if he ever does end up in that world for some reason, makes me feel a hell of a lot better knowing you’d bring him back.”

He smirks, and doesn’t deny it, which makes her feel better than she had even realized it could.

“Damn right.” He says, “And I’d give him an earful too.”

She laughs, suddenly picturing her teenage son sneaking out at night only to be dragged home by his ankles courtesy of Norvock and his sliming friend.

“So,” He says, bringing her back to the moment. “It’s a boy?”

She blushes against her will, tipping her head down for a moment to get control of it.

“Yeah.”

He nods and takes a sip of his own beer.

“Thought of any names?”

“A few.” She says with a shrug. “I’m using Caity’s last name, so trying to find something that goes with Snow. Ralph told me he’s always liked the name Johnny-”

This time it’s Norvock who spits his beer back into the bottle, pulling it away from his mouth with a scowl of distaste.

“God, no. No. Frost, PLEASE, for the love of God, do not name your kid John Snow.”

She knows she should take offence to the strong reaction, but the sight of him of all people having such strong feelings about baby names of all things has her laughing.

Not just an amused chuckle either, but a fit of giggles that come through a wide grin.

“Why not?” She asks through her laughter, and he sighs such a sigh of disappoint she actually laughs a little harder.

“Watch Game of Thrones, that’s all I’m gonna say.”

She wants to ask more, because that is not at all an explanation, but instead she simply agrees and finishes out with her laughing. He seems to take some amusement in that, smirking at her and taking another swig of his beer.

“So Ralph likes that name?” He asks once she’s finally calmed down. “It his kid?”

She rolls her eyes, “No.” She says, and her eyes glance down. She means to look at the floor but, well, she is starting to get to the point where she sees her stomach first, and she frowns just the tiniest bit.

“It’s um… You ever meet Mick Rory?”

Judging by the widening of his eye, she is going to say yes.

“That a good thing or a bad thing?” She asks; her brow furrowed as she tries to read him, but his expression doesn’t change.

“It’s ah… It’s a ‘never would’ve guessed that in a million years’ thing.”

She smiles, chuckling a little.

“Really?”

He shrugs, “Guy disappeared four years ago then reappeared a novelist, wouldn’t have thought of him.”

Ok, fair enough.

“Yeah, when he disappeared he went off with some heroes, our circles kind of intersected after I changed sides.”

He nods, clearly still processing.

“So uh… What names is he voting for?”

She rolls her eyes, and a part of her brain is aware of the hand that comes to rest over her stomach – especially with Norvock also taking notice – but the rest of her brain doesn’t care.

Much like Mick.

“He isn’t.” She admits, “He doesn’t want anything to do with me or the baby.”

For a moment she sees the fury flash through Norvock’s eyes, and it warms her heart a little. The two of them have had some pretty rough ups and downs to say the least, and she knows they’re past the bad but still; it’s nice to see that he cares.

“He say that?”

She shrugs, “More or less.” She murmurs, “He said he’s not cut out for parenting, then he offered me child support, and as if that wasn’t answer enough I asked him to come to an appointment once and then for just one opinion on one thing. He said no both times.”

Norvock hisses a small grimace, and she can’t blame him. She sighs, licking her lips and passing her bottle into the fingers of the hand she has resting on her belly so that she can tangle the other one in her hair.

“I don’t know why I’m so stupid.” She mutters; an unsteadiness to her voice she wasn’t expecting. But of course it’s unsteady, of course she wants to cry. She’s pissed and she’s cold, the world is coming to an end and, oh yeah, she keeps setting herself up for Mick to break down over and over again.

“Hey.” Norvock says, taking a step closer to her. “You are not stupid.”

“Really?” She snaps, and his eye goes wide again with her sudden outburst. “I’m not stupid? Because I’m the idiot who chose not to use a condom because I assumed the pill would be enough. I’m the idiot who, despite spending basically her entire childhood in a coma in somebody else’s head, thinks she can raise a baby into a half-decent kid. I’m the idiot who keeps _pining _after the jackass who knocked me up, because for some godforsaken reason I still want to be with him, and what happens?”

She holds up her hands for evidence, each of them fuming with an icy mist.

“This! This happens! Because I am so pissed off at him, and myself, for being such an idiot!”

It’s after that final shout that she realizes the sound of her seething breath is the _only _sound in the entire sawmill. Because hey; they’re up pretty high and sound carries extremely well in a space like this.

Fucking perfect.

* * *

They’re almost to the arena.

Mick’s gone over the plan with Sara twice, and then a third time with the rest of the group. Him, Zari, and Charlie will take the jump ship to the alien’s main ship while the others are all off distracting the uglies in mortal combat. They’ve already found reports in Gideon’s files of these creeps not keeping their word to stay away after losing a fight, so they already know that’s out the window. They had better be able to find some kind of weakness on the ship, or at the very least trash it enough to send a message.

Mick’s job is to make sure that last part happens if it comes to it, but Charlie’s more than capable of handling that. So he’ll leave it in her hands.

Stretch is in the cargo hold when he walks in, just finished changing by the looks of it. The idiot looks up and meets his eyes almost right away, and his face goes blank.

Well, might as well cut to it.

“Change of plans.” He says, and he didn’t know it was possible for a guy’s face to look even emptier but it does.

“Uh…”

“You’re on the jump ship, I’m fighting.”

“What?”

He huffs and steps further into the room.

“I said-”

“I know what you said. Just, I mean ok but, why?”

He shrugs, “Captain’s orders. Said team break in could use a meta in case things go south, and team cage fight’s got enough powers that one trade won’t hurt.”

It is solid logic, Snart would be proud, but it ain’t Sara’s logic. Still, Stretch is hardly the first detective Mick’s ever lied to.

“Ok…” He doesn’t seem totally convinced, but not totally unconvinced either, and that’s really all Mick needs. “When’s the jump ship leaving?”

“Now.” Mick answer, cocking his head towards the loading bay. “You better get going.”

He receives a nod, and just like that Stretch passes him by and heads for the jump ship.


	27. You ok?

Frost has found what was either once an office or a supply closet to hide herself away in. It’s even colder than the rest of the sawmill, but not so cold that she is shivering too much, so she’ll stay in here a little while longer; at least until she can gather up what’s left of her dignity.

She’s found a rusty folding chair against the wall and sat herself in it, her head resting in her hand as she tries to push away the memory of her outburst.

“Frost?”

The sudden voice comes from the comm inside her ear and belongs to Cisco, thankfully.

“What’s up?” She asks, pressing her finger against the little button of the comm.

“We just got word from the Waverider.” He informs her, “Most of them are going into a trial by combat for the Earth.”

“Of course they are.”

Cisco chuckles for a second, but otherwise continues on as though she hasn’t interrupted.

“Mick, Zari, and Charlie are sneaking back onto the H’San Natall ship to see if they can take them down.”

A lump forms in her throat. Mick may not be her favorite person right now, but that doesn’t mean she’s exactly in love with the idea of him sneaking aboard a hostile alien ship. Still, hopefully most – if not all – of the H’San Natall on board will be distracted by the combat trial and his job will be easy. It’s the others she should be more worried about, but it sounds like they sent all the metas or otherwise powered heroes into the ring; they should all be fine.

“Ok.” She says into the comm, rubbing at her temple with her pinky finger while her pointer finger remains pressed on the little device in her ear. “So we’re still sitting tight?”

“For now.” Cisco answers, “We’ll keep you posted.”

“Ok, thanks.”

“Are you ok?” He asks, no hesitation, probably because he knows she’ll turn off her comm otherwise.

She considers doing it anyway.

“Fine.” She grumbles, “I just shouted all my problems to Norvock, and of course sound fucking echoes in here so everyone heard.”

This time Cisco’s response isn’t quick. He hesitates for a long second, and she swears she can hear the click of Iris’s tongue in the background and she wants to burry her face into her hands.

“Ouch.” Cisco finally says, and she huffs.

“Yeah,” She agrees, sardonically. “Ouch.”

There is another long, drawn out moment of awkward quiet. She debates again turning off her comm but somehow it feels rude, even though if Cisco knew she was currently hiding in a closet he hopefully wouldn’t have bothered her even this far.

Although if she’s being honest it isn’t a bother, if anything it’s welcome.

“Well uh…” Cisco eventually trails. “This might not be the best time… But do you prefer vanilla or chocolate?”

She scrunches up her face; half convinced she’s heard him wrong.

“What?”

It isn’t him who answers her question, but Iris.

“We’re planning out some things for your baby shower.” She explains, “Would you rather a vanilla cake, or a chocolate cake?”

Of course they’re planning this now.

They’re supposed to be running ground control on a mission to prevent essentially the end of the world, and they’re multitasking with planning her baby shower.

“Chocolate.” She answers, because she might as well go along with this. “And please, do not get one of those stupid cakes shaped like a belly.”

There is a cackle of Cisco’s distressed grunt through her comm before he sighs.

“Fine.” He says, “We’ll be sure to get a boring cake.”

She snickers to herself, “Thank you.”

* * *

Mick reels back from the force of the… Was it a punch? He thinks it was a punch. A punch by something sharp and very much not human. He hears a shout somewhere off in the distance but he can’t tell if it’s of distress or a call of a warning, all he can be sure of is it’s someone on his team but that’s it. He can’t even tell who, he thinks it’s Sara but he isn’t sure. Whoever it is they’re gonna have to make do on their own, cause he’s still seeing stars and…

* * *

“A deserted ship.” Charlie remarks, her and Zari just a step behind Ralph as the three of them round their first corner. “A bit trusting aren’t they?”

“Cocky seems more their style.” Zari comments.

“Well whatever they are, lets just hope they’re stupid.” Ralph says, peering around another corner and still finding no sign of H’San Natall soldiers standing guard anywhere.

“Probably.” Charlie says, “They seem like the type to get a kick out of watching a gladiator match.”

“Yeah…” Zari trails, “Fun as that must be, lets try and shut down that gladiator match before anyone on our side gets killed.”

That’s a plan Ralph can certainly get behind.

They move throughout more of the ship but still run into no guards. A part of that is nice, but it’s so unsettling that it’s hard to remember that part. Eventually they come to what they’re assuming is a control room. At the very least it has a computer, and that’s all they need.

“Ok… This could be a problem.” Zari says as she brings up the screen.

“What?” Ralph asks, swiveling to look over her shoulder at the screen. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is I don’t speak whatever language it is these guys do.” She says, and so feeling like an idiot he takes a better look at the keyboard. The symbols on it aren’t even close to any language he’s ever seen on Earth.

“Great.” He mutters, “So we came all this way for nothing.”

Zari looks like she is about to agree with him, but before she can Charlie leans over her other shoulder and takes a look at the keyboard for herself.

“No.” She says, looking over to them. “I’ve seen some of these symbols before.”

“You’ve what?” Ralph asks, because how the heck else is he supposed to respond to that?

Charlie smirks at him, “I’ve been around a long time, mate. Never seen these particular jokers before, but must have met someone who knows them.”

“Ok,” He says, deciding they are all better off if he just accepts this. “You two hack, I’ll keep watch.”

He leaves them to it, then, and really keeping watch doesn’t entail much. There isn’t even a sound of life other than the three of them on the ship. All of the guards must really be off watching the trial; they must think it’s going to be a hell of a fight.

He knows they won’t be wrong about that, he just hopes it’s in their favor.

“Wait, wait. Stop there.” Charlie says suddenly, and when Ralph turns she is pointing over Zari’s shoulder at the screen. “This says they’re under some kind of peace treaty with some people called The Guardians of the Universe.”

“Hm, humble.” Zari comments, but Ralph is barely paying attention. Something about that name seems familiar; he just can’t put his finger on it.

“It says they’re not allowed to so much as set foot onto a planet without being invited first.”

“Does winning a trial by combat count as being invited?” Ralph asks, and do they even have the authority to make a call like that?

“Doesn’t matter.” Charlie says, eyeing them both. “I doubt they were invited sixteen years ago when they knocked up nine women.”

“Ok.” Zari says, “So how do we contact these Guardians? Do they have, like, space cops working for them or something?”

And that’s the comment that makes Ralph’s eyes go wide, makes him remember where he has heard of The Guardians of the Universe before.

Or, he hopes it’s The Guardians of the Universe anyway.

“Yes.” He says, and both Zari and Charlie look at him with surprise. “Yes they do.”

* * *

“Guys?”

Iris quickly swivels in her chair, away from the computer on which she and Cisco have a party store website pulled up and to the one which is suddenly receiving a signal from an unrecognized system, but has Ralph’s voice playing out the speakers.

“Ralph?” She asks, “What’s going on up there?”

“We might have found a way to stop the H’San Natall.” He announces, and Iris can see Cisco’s shoulders deflate in relief, much like her own. “We need you to get ahold of John Diggle.”

And there’s the other shoe.

“Dig?” Cisco asks, “Ralph that’s insane. He’s…”

Iris remembers in the same moment Cisco seems to. He’s out in space, with some organization that calls themselves The Guardians.

“You think-?”

“I do.” Ralph cuts Cisco off. “The H’San Natall are locked in a peace treaty with a group called The Guardians of the Universe, and right now they’re violating it. It has to be the same Guardians.”

Cisco looks to her. It is a safe bet; at the very least they have definitely taken riskier ones.

“Even if it’s not them,” she says, “Maybe Dig can find them.”

Cisco nods, “Ok, I’ll try to get ahold of him.”

* * *

“Ok.” Frost says into the comm after Iris has relayed the information. “I’ll tell the others.”

Apparently diplomacy is the solution to their problem. They’ve contacted John Diggle out on his little space adventure and based on what Iris said, his employers weren’t too happy when they learned of the H’San Natall’s threats to Earth.

She sighs, she is still hiding in the closet but she has to come out at some point, and that might as well be now that she has an update to give. When she opens the door, however, she shouts and nearly jumps back, not having expected to see Isaiah right there.

“Whoa…” He says, taking a jump back himself

“Sorry” Frost says, one hand on her chest as her heart races. “Um, I just got an update. Turns out the H’San Natall have someone holding their leash, so team space is going after them. Hopefully you guys can go home by the end of the day.”

“Cool.” Isaiah says with a nod, with his lips pursed and his fists shoved deep into his sweatshirt pockets. “Cool.”

Frost gives him what she hopes is sympathetic smile. “Sorry.” She says, “I know you wanted your shot at them.”

“It’s cool. I uh… How are you doing?”

Well, that hadn’t been what she was expecting. She snickers regardless, because while she may not have been expecting it it doesn’t really surprise her. Not after earlier.

“You know, on edge. Humiliated.” She says, stepping fully out of the closet door and closing it behind her. “But I’ll get over it.”

He nods, worry and uncertainty still in his eyes, and she smiles at him.

“Come on,” she says, moving to step past him. “Lets go tell the others what’s going on.”

He lets her get a step ahead of him, and then she hears his footsteps quickening and before she knows it he is right by her side and rounding in front of her, so she stops.

“Uh…” He trails off, and she raises an eyebrow, trying to figure out his sudden urgency. “Look, I don’t know what you’re going through exactly, but I heard what you said about raising a half-decent kid, and I just want you to know that you’re gonna be a great mom.”

She keeps gaping at him for a minute, at a loss of what to say. A part of her wants to laugh, but instead she settles for scoffing.

“Thanks kid.” She says, “But you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you did everything you could to help me and the others.” He says, “With our powers, and today. I mean you shut down three pissed off teenagers.”

She chuckles, crossing her arms over the top of her stomach and snickering to herself as he continues.

“I’m serious!” He says with a grin, “Do you know how good your mom voice has to be to get three, pissed off, super-powered teenagers to stay put?”

She laughs, just a little, and he is still grinning with a newfound confidence. She supposes he does have a point, but now that she’s thinking about it a thought crosses her mind. While Isaiah probably isn’t the most qualified to judge her parenting potential, there is one problem of hers he might have a unique insight on.

“Can I ask you something?” She says, and he looks more than a little surprised by the question, but he nods anyway.

“Course.”

Even with his permission she takes a minute to decide if she really is about to open this bag, but she’s already this far gone so, really, she might as well.

“I know you had your stepdad from, like, the day you were born or something. But when you were a kid… Did you ever wish you at least knew who your real dad was?”

At first he doesn’t answer, he doesn’t even look like he wants to answer.

“I’m sorry.” She says immediately, “You don’t have to answer that.”

“No it’s cool.” He assures her. “It’s ok, really. I’m just thinking. I uh… I mean now that I know my biological dad was really some alien trying to take over the world, he can go screw himself.”

She chuckles, quietly, and he continues.

“But when I was a kid… I guess there were times when I was mad at my dad, stepdad, I would wonder about him. I’d wonder if he’d be doing what my stepdad was with me, or if he would’ve seen whatever was going on my way.”

He doesn’t look like he’s proud to admit this, but he presses on.

“Look, I don’t have a lot of experience with kids, but from what I hear they ask questions about everything. So if your kid doesn’t know who their dad is, they’re gonna wonder. But it’s not gonna matter. Long as you love them, they’ll be ok.”

She smiles, processing that. “Thanks kid.” She says, and then with her smile still in place she starts walking again. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

* * *

“So it’s over?” Sara asks of John, back on the Waverider after everything is – mostly – said and done, and she’s holding an icepack to her very bruised left shoulder.

The trial had ended every bit as suddenly as it had started, not to mention every bit as explosively. John – who she hasn’t seen since Ollie’s funeral – had burst through the roof of the area surrounded by a green orb of light. Even the H’San Natall had paused to look up at him, and then of all things a giant floating lantern much like John’s orb had appeared behind him and the H’San Natall stopped in their tracks.

“It’s over.” John promises, “The Guardians will take them back to Oa for trial, and they won’t come within ten light-years of Earth ever again.”

She nods, her lips pursed as she tries to process… any of that, really. Judging by the amused smirk on John’s face, she’s guessing her lack of comprehension is obvious.

“What?” He asks, “You’ve never dealt with intergalactic law before.”

“Hm, not exactly.” She says, adjusting her ice pack with a slight wince. “But it’s more that I’m used to you throwing up almost every time you see Barry.”

He chuckles, “Yeah,” he says, “Times have changed.”

He looks down at her with a soft smile, maybe realizing how true his words are.

“You ok?” He asks, and solemnly she nods.

“I will be.” She says, “Mick’s the one I’m worried about, Gideon still hasn’t let him out of the med bay.”

* * *

Ralph feels like he’s going to be sick.

Gideon just barely agreed that Mick would remain stable through bringing the ship back down into the present. Ray is in there checking on him now, but Ralph is pretty sure Gideon would have told them if he had crashed after the jump so that is the only thing keeping him from going off the rails completely.

When the rest of the team had gotten back to the ship him, Zari, and Charlie were already here. They were under the impression that everything was fine.

Until Nate and Ray came dragging Mick’s unconscious and bloody body through the main hatch.

He keeps pacing his way around the first cargo hold. Frost will be here any minute with Norvock, Cisco, Iris, and any of the kids or their parents who want to come and make sure this is all really over. The thing is that all of the others only have to face their victory, but Frost has to face Mick; and the beating he evidently took.

He doesn’t know exactly where Frost’s head is at in regards to Mick right now. He knows she’s mad, but he also gets the feeling that she still cares for him. If she didn’t care she never would have hunted him down, and she especially wouldn’t have asked him for his input on the baby knowing who he is or not.

“Hey.”

He jumps, and when he lands back on his feet he is facing the doorway and looking at Frost standing there with her brow curiously furrowed.

“You ok?”

“Um…” He gapes, and she puts a hand on her hip as she waits for him to give an answer. “Um… I’m… I’m fine.” He stutters, and he knows he has to follow that up with the news of who isn’t, but she looks so… So not worried.

“Ok…” She drawls, an almost amused tone to her voice as she steps into the cargo hold. “So what are you doing pacing a hole into the floor?”

He stops in his tracks, his eyes wide and focused only on her. He watches as the entertained sparkle fades from her eyes, as the smirk turns to a frown.

“Ralph?” She asks, and he swallows.


	28. Same Page

When Ralph brings her to the med bay Frost gasps at the sight before her. Ralph warned her that Mick is hurt, and then repeatedly assured her that he will be fine, but it’s hard to believe that second part when faced with him lying unconscious in the chair covered in blood.

He isn’t alone, Ray is in there fussing over a clipboard and when he looks up at her and Ralph he just looks so sorry.

“He um… He took a hard hit.” Ray explains, stepping forward and putting the clipboard down at a nearby table. “He got knocked out, then while he was down they started beating him. But he’s gonna be fine. Gideon’s fixing him up now.”

He sounds more like he is trying to convince himself of that fact than he is her. She nods anyway, and then takes a step into the room. She is well aware of both Ralph and Ray watching her, wondering what she is doing, and she is wondering a bit of that herself. But she walks to Mick’s side and places one hand on his arm and another on his shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest eases her worries a bit. He’s fine, just sleeping. She starts looking him over and catches sight of a nasty bruise underneath the torn collar of his jacket at the back of his neck. She slides her hand over from his shoulder and fingers lightly at the collar, nudging it over and holding it out of the way with her wrists. With a deep inhale in that is more for her nerves than anything else she summons her powers. Not much, but enough to bring about a light stream of cool to ease the bruise. In the background she hears Ralph and Ray mutter something to each other before their footsteps fade away, and thus she is alone with Mick.

It must be the sudden temperature change in such a sensitive spot, because it isn’t long before Mick’s face screws up and he grunts before he blinks his eyes open and his expression eases.

Well, eases a little.

He looks very, understandable, confused.

He blinks as he looks both at her and around the room. She lets him take it all in, and it’s only when he starts to shift that she presses a cold finger down firm against his skin as a warning.

“You took a beating.” She informs him. “Battle’s over, we won. The H’San Natall are gone.”

He hums, low and thoughtful at the back of his throat, but he eases himself back down against the chair.

“Just like that?”

“That’s the short version.” She explains, her eyes not daring to move from the injury she is working on. “I’m sure you’ll get caught up on the rest later.”

He hums again, this time more accepting. The tension in his shoulder eases a little more, but not all the way. They’re quiet for probably only a minute or two after that, but it feels like an eternity. Eventually she decides she has done all she can for the bruise, but she keeps up the ice anyway while she thinks. What now? Should she look him over for more injuries? Or should she just get out and leave him to recover?

Probably the second option.

He grunts when she removes her hand, and then hisses when she barely brushes her fingers along his side in a search for more bruises.

Finally she meets his eyes, asking for permission, and she thinks she sees the glint of a tear in the corner of his gaze before he tries to sit up.

His movements are slow, stiff, and accompanied by a lot of grunting and grimacing. She wants to help him, but that somehow feels more invasive than healing him does. So she stands stiff and awkward while he maneuvers his arms out of his singed jacket until he drops it behind him. His shirt isn’t anywhere near as damaged as his jacket, but when he fumbles around with the hem and manages to lift it a few inches she realizes that doesn’t mean his side didn’t take a lot of damage.

She reaches forward, her hands grabbing alongside his, and he freezes and looks up at her.

She holds his gaze, and wordlessly he relents and allows her to help him out of the shirt. She takes care to move slowly, and he grunts with pain as she does.

“Sorry.” She mutters, adjusting on of his arms, which causes him to grunt again. “Sorry.”

He makes some kind of noise that she thinks is meant to tell her it’s fine, but that gets lost somewhere in with another hiss. Eventually she gets his shirt off and tosses it onto the other bed, and then she snatches his jacket and sends that over as well.

“Lay back.”

He does as he’s told, and she wheels up a nearby stool and takes a seat.

“This might feel a little cold.” She warns him, though they both know it is more than a _might._

His entire left side is black and blue, and she doesn’t want to think about how it got that way. She can almost picture it. Him unconscious in the arena, the H’San Natall fighters wailing mercilessly on him, the rest of their friends too distracted with trying to not die themselves to help him.

His shudder brings her out of her head. She’s pressed her freezing hands lightly against his side, and soon that shudder of his gives way into an exhale of relief.

“Why are you helping me?”

She keeps her eyes trained on his bruise and her hands, keeps her thoughts on the level of power she’s using. Practical things.

“Call it my good deed for the day.” She says, and he chuckles to himself as his body shifts into what she thinks might be something close to relaxed. Or as relaxed as he can get right now.

The silence drags on for much longer than a minute or two this time, and when she dares to allow herself to look up at his face it is only for a second before she resumes her focus on her task. His expression is thoughtful and far off, and she wonders if he is thinking about the battle or about something else.

“Thought you were supposed to be invading the ship?” She eventually says, looking up again, and this time she sees guilt fall over his face.

“I uh… I made Stretch switch. Told him it was Sara’s order.”

She presses her lips together and ducks her head, her eyes back on his side. This… This could’ve been Ralph. It was supposed to be Ralph. Except maybe not, because Ralph’s body tends to absorb shock such as that which comes with hard punches. He wouldn’t have been knocked out as easily, so he wouldn’t have been unconscious to have the shit beat out of him.

“Ralph was on that squad for a reason.” She says, her tone even as she can make it.

Still, even she hears the anger rising in her voice. She knows without asking why Mick made the switch.

Because of the baby.

Because he believes the baby will be better off with Ralph in his life than with him, and if there was a chance of someone not walking out of today alive it was far more likely to be someone in that stupid arena.

He hums, the most acknowledgment she is likely to get from him, and then they’re quiet again.

“I don’t think the kid should know.”

She has to stop herself from dropping her hands.

Instead she looks down at him with surprise, and he is looking at her with such a pleading and yet assured expression on his face that when combining it with his words it makes her heart twist.

“Maybe someday.” He says, “If things change, somehow. But for now… I uh, I think it’s best if the kid doesn’t have to look at me and know.”

She keeps her lips firm together while he looks to her for an answer. She can feel the threat of tears beginning to prick in the back of her eyes but – and maybe because – she knows he’s right.

“I think that’s best too.”

He nods, and that’s that. They’ve finally come to a decision together.

“I uh…” He says, “I’m sorry. I’m uh… I’m not good with feelings, and I… I want to try, but I know I’m gonna mess up and I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep. To you or the kid.”

She smiles. Small, but real, genuine, and watery. Damn hormones. She tilts her head down to inspect his healing bruises under her hands, and she can feel him looking at her but she doesn’t say anything about it. It’s only after a long, long while, once she has regained almost all control over her emotions, that she finally meets his eyes again.

“Just don’t die, ok?” She asks of him, and he looks a little taken back, but he nods.

She isn’t going to get any type of verbal response, so she powers down her hands and she doesn’t miss how he shifts with the sudden loss of her touch. She puts a hand up against the corner of the chair to lean on as she gets up, but instead of getting up another instinct takes over, and she can’t deny it.

She leans over, down, and she presses her lips against his. He reciprocates willingly - more than willingly actually – and she can’t help but to lean into it when she feels his fingers start to skim lightly against the side of her protruding stomach.

He, however, has the opposite reaction.

He yanks his hand back almost as soon as he’s touched her, and he pulls out of the kiss every bit as abruptly. So she’s left half leaning over him, looking down at him as he looks back up at her with a myriad of questions written on his face. She isn’t sure how to go about answering any of them, or even putting words to them. So she doesn’t try, not explicitly anyway. Instead she reaches out and brings his hand back to her side, placing it over the very spot he had pulled away from and holding it there. He looks up at her reverently; silently asking if she is sure this much is ok because they both know this won’t last. At the end of today she’ll get off this ship, and he won’t.

She leans back in and kisses him again. At first the kiss is soft but it evolves quick, and before she knows it she is climbing up onto the bed and positioning herself to straddle him. He grunts as she does, and so she pulls back.

“Sorry.”

“No.” He counters, quick, with his hands tightening where they have slid to her hips as so to keep her in her new place. “It’s fine.”

Just like that, she can feel the tipping point they are on. It isn’t like a cliff, but more like a seesaw. On one hand she can climb off him and leave the ship like this much never happened. On the other hand they can keep going. She can kiss him again, see how far they can get before he or Gideon stops them (and she gets the feeling it would be Gideon). Either way this will all end the same. With the seesaw resting one end on the ground and the other up in the air.

“Long as it’s fine with you.” He says, talking about much more than his own physical comfort. It’s also a nudge in one direction, a confirmation that he is ok with this.

She leans back in and kisses him again, and this time it is much more fervently than before.

She rocks her hips on top of him. She can’t help it. She’s had her more erotic hormones under control for awhile now but suddenly it’s like they’re bursting out of a gate; like her body has been waiting for her to get on top of him again.

Judging by the way his hands make quick work of feeling their way to the hem of her shirt, she is going to say he’s been waiting too.

He fumbles with sliding his hands under her shirt and tenses a bit. She’s guessing he wasn’t expecting the spandex net that makes up the “waistband” of her maternity jeans. Regardless he rolls with it and pushes it down, and while her shirt still covers the majority of her belly even with the fabric riding up she shivers with not only the sudden presence of the cool air of the med bay on her skin, but also that of his calloused hands. It occurs to her in that moment that no one other than her and her doctor has touched the bare skin of her belly this whole time. Plenty of her friends have felt the baby kick, but it has always been through clothes. Something in the back of her mind feels like she should be embarrassed, or at the very least nervous for how he might react to all the changes to her since the last time they were together. But fuck that. He is the reason she is the way she is now, physically speaking. She wants him to feel every inch of the changes he’s brought about in her.

Based on the way he is allowing his hands to drag slow over her thighs as he pushes down her pants, she’s going to say they’re on the same page with that as well.

She grinds back against him and he moans into her mouth.

“This room soundproof?” She whispers against his lips.

“Yeah.” He hums at the same time she feels a fresh wave of cold air hit on her knees. “Medical confidence or something.”

She pulls back for just a fraction of a second, her brow furrowed as she tries to understand that, and then it hits her.

“Ah.” She says, “Confidentially.” He hums and she goes back for his lips.

She rolls her hips down on him again then gasps when he matches her, driving himself up against her and she can feel his hardness even through his jeans.

“You good?”

“Mm-hmm.” She hums, but really she isn’t. After that it feels like her libido has suddenly plowed into overdrive. Her whole body is aching with want, the slickness between her thighs increasing with a demand for some long overdue proper attention. “Just get inside of me.”

She pulls away just at the right moment to see him grinning.


	29. Keep Me in Mind

Leaving Mick and the Waverider this time is surprisingly easier than it has been all the times before. That isn’t something Frost was expecting, she was expecting it to be harder, but she supposes even if things aren’t perfect they are at least on the same page now. The tension between them is still there, but it isn’t as strong. There’s something about knowing exactly where Mick stands that makes it easier to live with him just being out there, even if she’s known this whole time that is exactly where he’s going to be. Knowing exactly where his head is at, and not having him flat out _ignoring _the fact that he’s going to be a father, it settles her nerves.

Unfortunately, that isn’t true for everyone.

She can feel the tense energy of Caity in the back of her mind starting the night after everything with the H’San Natall is resolved, and she ignores it. She’s a little surprised when Caity doesn’t say anything in the following days but she gets the feeling that is only because she has a little too much to say and long conversations can be tricky without the cerebral inhibitor.

She knows she should put it on and get this over with, but she keeps procrastinating.

Since she’s hell bent on avoiding that inhibitor her confusion is understandable when at the end of the week she drifts off to sleep and soon finds herself in the hazy outline of her living room, Caity standing in the center clear as day with her arms crossed.

She looks around, like she needs to confirm she’s really here and this isn’t… What would it be? A normal dream?

“I’m not wearing the inhibitor.”

Caity rolls her eyes. “I have been under for months with nothing to do besides sleep and figure out how to talk to you.”

Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“Great.” She says, and she decides that if Caity is holding her here she may as well get comfortable. So she starts walking for the couch, talking as she does as so to maybe distract Caity from the laughable sight that is her trying to sit down. “So you dragged me here to tell me how good at it you’re getting?”

“I’m worried, Frost.” Caity practically growls. “You had sex with Mick.”

“Yeah.” She deadpans, gesturing down at herself. “Not for the first time.”

Caity rolls her eyes and sinks down next to her on the couch.

“You know what I mean.” She huffs. “I know you’ve been through a lot these past few months, and this is just the start. I just don’t want to see you get your hopes up for him to come around if he doesn’t.”

They both know that _if _isn’t really an if. _If _Mick does ever come around it would be nothing short of a miracle, and it certainly won’t be happening any time soon.

She is perfectly aware of that.

“I appreciate the concern.” She says, laying a hand over her belly. “But I’m not worried about Mick. We’re not avoiding each other, that’s all I need.”

Caity does smile at her, but Frost can tell she isn’t totally convinced. Truth be told, she isn’t 100% convinced herself.

Where she and Mick are right now she is fine with it. More than fine, actually. But she isn’t unaware that time is going to move on. There will come a time where she’ll have her life more figured out than she does right now. She can’t help but wonder what things will be like, say, in five years. She might have managed to move herself and her son into a place of their own by then, but will she really still have her soft spot for Mick? Will she have moved on? She can’t imagine that. It takes a special kind of sadist to accept someone in her line of work (she still doesn’t know what Kamila was thinking when she dated Cisco), but adding in having a kid on top of that she might as well carry a warning label.

Whatever. Those are problems for another day.

* * *

“Ok, everything is looking good.” Dr. Jones says as she moves the ultrasound wand around on her belly the following week. “Weight looks like he’s about three pounds eleven ounces, which is ideal for this stage.”

She snorts, “No way this kid weighs less than four pounds.”

Dr. Jones smiles at her, “Feels like more?”

“Starting to.” She grumbles, and then as if she’s been heard and offence has been taken she receives a sharp kick to one of her internal organs, which she would be more irritated with had she not been watching the screen and actually seen it happen.

Feeling the baby move these past few months has been one thing, but seeing it is something else entirely.

Dr. Jones, evidently not as amazed by the sight, chuckles and starts to move the wand around some more.

“Careful, looks like you’ve got a feisty one on your hands.” She jokes before her face grows serious with concentration again. “Ok, his movement in his legs appears to be just fine – which you are obviously well aware of. You said you would like to do surgery for his back?”

She nods, “If it’s possible.” She says, “If you don’t think he could get through it right after birth I won’t.”

Dr. Jones looks back to the ultrasound again and moves the wand a little more.

“Actually, I think I would recommend it.” She says, “The damage isn’t severe, and with this kind of surgery the younger the child is the better. Recovery will be faster because he isn’t crawling, walking, or even sitting on his own.”

She nods, a smile breaking through at the sheer relief that this could all actually be fixed early on.

“However.” Dr. Jones continues, effectively halting her mental celebration. “It’s likely he’ll be kept in the hospital an extra two or three days to recover, but depending on how things go you may end up released separately. So, be prepared for that.”

She nods, letting the relief course back through her.

“That’s fine.” She says, “Anything else I should be worried about?”

Dr. Jones looks back to the screen again, her lips pursed in the kind of thought that comes with someone who is double-checking an answer they already know.

“I think you are all set for now in terms of the baby’s development.” She says, and even as she switches off the machine and turns around with a look that says they are not done here Frost still leans her head back in relief. Whatever is coming next, the baby is fine. That’s all she cares about.

“But while we’re on the topic, I would like to go over a few details with you about the birth.”

And her heart effectively stops beating.

Right, she has to start thinking about that.

“Ok.” She says, “Like what?”

“Nothing specifically.” Dr. Jones says, “I just want you to start thinking about a few things. As of right now you’re on track for a natural delivery so if you want an epidural I would like to run some tests next time I see you, as we’re not yet sure if your powers will interfere with the medication or not.”

She nods, and swallows down the lump that forms in her throat with the suggestion that she might not be able to have the medication.

Baby step, she tries to remember. Right now she doesn’t know that. It could be fine.

“What about the baby’s powers?” She finds herself asking, “When I first came to the surface, this huge cloud of ice blasted off of me and did a lot of damage.”

“You had been artificially suppressed by power dampeners.” Dr. Jones reminds her. “I don’t think we have to worry about your baby’s powers exploding like that. If he even has them.”

“What do you mean?” She asks as she pulls her shirt back into place and starts to sit up. “We already know he’s like me.”

“We know his body temperature runs cold like yours, yes. But you aren’t a traditional meta-human. Most metas I’ve dealt with were created due to the particle accelerator; their powers are like a film that has been laid over their DNA. But your powers are engrained into your DNA the same way as things like your hair color.”

She takes a minute to think that through, to try and understand it.

“So what?” She asks, swinging her legs over the edge of the chair and digging her fingers firm into the side. “You’re saying he could get all of my powers, or some of them, or none of them?”

Dr. Jones nods, and to be honest she doesn’t know how she feels about that. It should be a relief, to know that there might be a chance she won’t have to worry about her kid freezing others on the playground. But instead it almost feels like a disappointment.

“They could also be dormant at first.” She says, “Of the few meta-human mothers I’ve worked with so far only two babies have been born with powers. It could be possible that the powers stay dormant until puberty.”

Right, like Isaiah’s.

She nods and sighs, trying to push the powers to the back of her mind. It doesn’t really matter if the baby is born with powers or not. No powers will make things easier but thus far she has been preparing herself for powers so it isn’t like she would be caught off guard by them

“Ok. Anything else?” She asks as Dr. Jones scribbles something down on her clipboard.

“While you’re in labor being monitored, you can have whoever you like in your room. However, once you’re brought to the delivery room, our hospital only allows for three people to be with you.”

She nods, that is actually one thing she has given a little thought to. Not much, but some. She kind of has an idea of who she would like to have in there with her, it’s whether or not they’ll actually want to that she’s worried about.

* * *

As the next week goes by she tries to do her homework and think about the things she was told to think about but she is yet to figure out how to do that without subsequently losing her mind.

The baby might not have powers, or he might, and she isn’t really sure she gets why she’s kind of hoping he will because if he doesn’t life will be so much easier for everyone. Then there’s the issue of asking someone to be with her in the room - possibly more than one someone – and is it even appropriate for her to ask the one person she actually wants to ask? Other than Mick, who she’s pretty sure she won’t ask. She’ll try to get in touch with him, obviously, but he probably won’t want to be in there given what they’ve agreed on. Which sucks, because she would like for him to be there but… But…

She sighs, and tries to push that all to the side and get ready for her baby shower.

Of course, that doesn’t help. If anything it makes it worse. She is trying not to freak out over all these impending decisions, and going to a party where the main purpose is for her to get the last of the things she needs for the baby doesn’t really help with forgetting how soon it’s all coming.

Whatever, she’ll just have to think about it later.

She was very clear with Iris and Cisco that she will not be wearing a dress to this thing, and she won’t. She decides on black leggings and a grey sweater that even at this stage in her pregnancy still has a fair amount of extra material draping down the sides of her hips. She huffs and takes one last glance at her room as she heads out - the crib still in it’s box against the wall opposite her bed - and tries to not envision all the work she is going to have to do in here after today.

One step at a time.

They’re having the shower at Joe and Cecile’s, and by the time she gets there almost everyone is already there. She wonders, vaguely, if Iris told her to show up later, and ultimately decides it doesn’t matter.

Inside she is glad to see Iris didn’t let Cisco and Ralph go _too _overboard with the decorations. They have a banner and some balloons, and one of those centerpieces made out of diapers. She sees a pin the tail on the donkey poster hung up on the living room wall and when she looks at Iris her friend simply rolls her eyes and so she doesn’t ask. It’s small, just their friends and Carla, and this is the first she’s seen Carla since their lunch a few months back.

At first she avoids the older woman, content to hide out in the kitchen until she sees a seat open up next to Ralph on the couch.

“Hey.” He greets her as she eases herself down next to him quickly as she can. “How ya doing?”

“Oh, you know...” She huffs, and he suddenly his expression becomes a lot more concerned.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah.” She says, shaking herself out of her head. “Yeah, just… I haven’t talked to Carla yet and the last time I talked to her it went… I mean it went good, really good, but I don’t know what to do now. We said she would come today and we would go from here, but where are we supposed to go from here?”

“Hmm.” He hums, quirking his mouth to the side. “I don’t know, guess you can figure it out now.”

With that he bolts up and Carla comes around from behind her and takes his place.

Even with Carla sitting down she still turns and watches as Ralph retreats, spluttering in exasperation for him to come back until he is well into the kitchen and she can’t see him anymore.

Then she turns back to Carla.

At least Carla looks like she doesn’t hate being here, in fact Frost might even go so far as to say she might be having fun. She had seen her talking with Iris earlier, and then with Joe.

“Thank you.” She ends up saying, “For coming. I know it’s not always easy to go to a party where you don’t really know anyone.”

“You’re welcome.” Carla says, not denying it, and taking a sip of her coffee. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good.” She shrugs, one of her hands falling habitually on her stomach, since she is now too big to wring her hands together in front of her without it looking stupid. “I had a doctor’s appointment last week, started talking about delivery and stuff.”

Carla gives her a knowing smile, and God WHY did she lead with that?

“Getting ready then?” Carla asks, “It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

She hopes, she really, _really, _hopes that the small laugh that escapes her lips doesn’t sound as fake to Carla as it does to her own ears.

“Very.” She says, rubbing her hand over her belly while the other presses hard into the leather of the couch. “I can’t believe it’s almost here.”

“Well, believe it. I remember with Caitlin the last trimester felt like it dragged on forever, until I went into labor, and all of a sudden it felt like the whole pregnancy had flown by. I actually worked straight through a meeting with contractions because I didn’t want to admit the baby was coming. My lab assistant ended up pulling the chemical spill alarm to get me to leave.”

Frost is pretty sure that she smiles at the story. She must, because Carla keeps talking, but she isn’t listening. It starts on the back of her neck, the feeling of flush, and she _never _feels hot so what the hell? But she does feel hot. She feels like she’s sweating and there’s a pit settling in her stomach and… and…

She looks around, frantic, and then turns back to Carla and plasters the widest smile she can manage onto her face.

“Sorry, excuse me for just one second.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer. She gets up and makes a b-line through the party (which she is sure looks all sorts of suspicious) before she practically falls into the bathroom after knocking once and blessedly receiving no answer.

She lands on her knees in front of the toilet and promptly throws up everything she has eaten since arriving here.

She gasps with relief as she pulls her head away from the bowl, panting as she tries to take stock of the situation. Unfortunately for her this is her party, and it isn’t more than a minute later that she hears a knock on the door.

“Frost?” Ralph’s voice calls, “You ok in there?”

She closes her eye, curses under her breath, and then looks to the door.

“Yeah. You can come in.”

Ralph, bless him, doesn’t open the door any more than enough to slowly poke his head in. When he takes in the sight of her on her knees and half hunched over the toilet bowl he slips in the rest of the way and closes the door behind him.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” She croaks. “I um… I think I started to send myself into a panic attack.”

That does absolutely nothing to ease Ralph’s worry.

“Why?” He asks, coming closer, kneeling down next to her.

“Why?” She scoffs, “Everything is getting closer. Carla was talking about when she had Caitlin, and my doctor told me it’s time to actually start planning things for the birth. There’s only two months left until my due date, two! Which sounds like nothing, but then this kid is already coming up on four pounds and there are still two months left for him to get bigger! I don’t think I could push him out now! How am I supposed to push him out when he’s two months bigger?!”

“Ok, ok.” Ralph swiftly interrupts her rambling, his hand finding her lower back and rubbing small circles as she starts to hyperventilate. “Breathe. Just breathe, in and out. In and out.”

He demonstrates, in through his nose and out through his mouth, slowly. On any other day she might roll her eyes, but right now having something to breathe along with is pretty damn helpful, so she’ll give him a pass.

“There.” He says, after she has successfully taken two deep breaths in sync with him. “Better?”

She nods through her third breath.

“Yeah.” She says, “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He says, his hand keeping up its slow pattern on her back. He reaches with the other hand and flushes the toilet, and they’re quiet until the water filter has stopped echoing and the only sound is that of faded voices talking in the living room.

“Now.” He says, “I can’t know what it’s like to know in eight weeks you’re going to have to push essentially a watermelon out of your body-”

“Gonna spiral again, Ralph.” She warns, already feeling the churning of her stomach, which is not made any easier by her baby kicking her; apparently her running to the bathroom and sending her lunch into the toilet has disturbed him.

“Right.” Ralph says, “Sorry. What I’m trying to get to is yes, it’s terrifying. But you’re gonna be fine. All the incredible things you’ve done, pushing a baby out will just be another check mark on the list.”

She hums, trying to let his words put her at ease.

“All the things I’ve done, pushing a baby out is by far the scariest.”

He chuckles and slides his hand up her back until his arm is lightly draped along her shoulders and he is scooting himself closer to her. She closes her eyes when he presses a light kiss to her forehead, letting herself take comfort in being tucked into his side and being able to really breathe again. She’s still freaked out, she can’t imagine she’ll find a point in the next eight weeks where she won’t be, but it’s better now. It’s ok. He’s here. He might very well be as freaked out by this as she is, but that doesn’t stop him from whispering into her ear reassurances that everything will turn out fine.

She almost asks him something right then and there; something that’s been on her mind for a while now, but a soft knock on the door interrupts the moment.

“Crystal?” It’s Carla, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” She calls back as Ralph straightens himself up, and with a glance to her he gets to his feet. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Ok.”

Carla doesn’t exactly sound reassured, but it’s enough that they soon hear her footsteps fading away. Ralph holds his hand out to her and she accepts it gratefully, since getting up from furniture at this stage is one thing, but the floor is a whole other struggle.

“Maybe ask her to go easy on the birth story.” He remarks after he’s hauled her back to her feet.

She chuckles, “She’s trying to help.” She defends, and then she furrows her brow as she considers what she’s just said. “Are all moms that clueless?”

Ralph smirks, at her. “Just good ones.”

He leads the way back to the party, but she stays standing in the middle of the bathroom for a second, considering, until she firmly decides that she believes him.

She’s gonna be fine.


	30. You by my side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After seeing how excited Frost was for Valentines Day I had to add a little moment of that in!

“Ok.” Frost sighs as she folds her legs under her, settling onto the foot of her mattress. “You were right, I waited too long.”

Ralph smirks, a silent “I told you so” as he takes over with tightening the bolts of the bottom bar of the crib’s side. She hadn’t meant to wait this long to put it together, but it had seemed almost stupid to put it together before she had a changing table because what if she had to move it after getting that in the room? She could drag a box of parts around, but she sure as hell couldn’t move an intact crib from one end of the room to the other.

Unfortunately she hadn’t gotten the changing table until the baby shower. She had known that was happening, of course. It had been one of the few aspects of the shower she was let in on to ensure she didn’t buy one herself in the meantime. The arrangement was she would buy the car seat and the crib herself, her friends all chipped in for the changing table, and Carla got her the stroller. It had been Iris’s plan, and it had sounded good, but she hadn’t known that in addition to getting the changing table as a group all of her friends had gotten her some smaller things individually as well. Some packages of bottles and pacifiers, some diapers, and enough clothes that she suspects Iris might be starting to come down with a case of baby fever; though she isn’t about to mention that theory to Barry.

She’d felt a little bad about it all, but Ralph assured her that was the point of baby showers. Besides, when you split the cost of a half decent changing table seven ways, it actually ends up being pretty cheap for everyone.

She could’ve figured that out, and she blamed her not doing so on pregnancy brain.

Anyway, she still managed to procrastinate the putting together of everything for another week and a half, until she went for her appointment yesterday and Dr. Jones told her the baby turned himself the right way for birth. It had been more confirmation that this is getting closer, and upon arriving home she had suddenly felt this overwhelming need to be ready.

Cecile called it nesting, she prefers to call it an attempt to be fucking prepared for one thing in her life.

Ok, maybe it is nesting, whatever.

“What goes into here?” Ralph asks, tapping at the next corner with the tiny Allen wrench.

“Uh…” She trails, snatching the directions from their place next to her. “Another one of the nuts.”

Ralph starts whirling his gaze – and most of his body - all around, looking for the part in question.

“Right there.” She says, pointing by his toes, but he continues whirling.

“Where?”

“There, by your foot. No, your other foot.”

“Ah.”

She sighs as he triumphantly holds up the piece. He shifts to his knees and leans up, placing it into the hole in the head of the crib and he picks up the partially attached bar, holding it up with one hand while he starts looking around again.

“What now?”

“Um… You need an A bolt.”

“Ok, um… is that this one?” He asks, taking his free hand and holding up one of the bolts from the pile in front of him.

She leans forward as best she can, trying to get a better look at it.

“Is that an A or a G?”

He squints at it, and then looks back to her.

“Is there a difference?”

“There are eight A’s and two G’s.”

“Ok, well I have nine here that all look the same so…”

“But we already used one of the A’s.”

Ralph sighs, defeated.

“Is there any actual difference between them?”

She starts flipping through the instructions, trying to find anything specific.

“The G bolts fit into the L board.”

He sighs, again, and looks down at the array of bolts in front of him.

“Ok…” He trails off, “So which one is the L board?”

After twenty minutes, plus a lunch break, Frost is pretty sure they have determined which of the unused bolts are the G’s and which are the A’s, though she made Ralph unbolt the one they had already put in for a comparison.

He’s working on reinstalling that now, and as she swallows the last bite of her turkey sandwich she steels herself, mentally preparing to plunge into this conversation.

“You’re um… You’re planning on coming to the hospital when I have the baby, right?” She asks, and he looks skeptically at her out of the side of his eye before returning his focus to the bolt. “You had mentioned it back at Christmas.”

“Yep.” He answers, his brow furrowed tight in concentration as the bolt starts to lock firmly into place and he gives it a final few turns. “I have my _#1 Uncle _t-shirt on my nightstand so I don’t forget it.”

She can’t help the proud smirk on her face upon hearing that; she had known he would like that shirt.

“Why?”

She takes a deep breath.

“I was just thinking, if you’re planning on being there anyway, would you mind coming in with me? Like, through the delivery?”

He freezes.

His hand is mid way reaching for the next bolt but slowly it falls limp. He is staring at her with nothing short of shock, and she swallows down the lump in her throat that doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere.

“You don’t have to.” She promises, “I know it’s a big ask, and if it’s crossing all sorts of lines I get it.”

“No.” He stammers, “I mean no it’s not crossing any lines.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at him. “Because it’s not going to be pretty. Not just sweaty and gross not pretty. We’re talking my vagina hanging out, and some of my insides are going to be on my outsides not pretty.”

“Yeah, I know.” He says with a slight wince, before he shakes that off and meets her eyes again.

“It isn’t crossing any lines, as long as you’re comfortable with it. If you want me there then I’m there.”

She nods; she had known he would respond roughly like this. Throughout this whole pregnancy he has never once not been there for her.

“Besides.” He says with a snicker, picking up the bolt he had been going for at the start of this conversation. “It’ll be good practice for when I have kids.”

She smirks, “Gotta con someone into having sex with you first.”

He flips her off, and she chuckles, and then with some effort she gets herself up and retrieves the bag from her shower with the baby clothes in it. If the only thing she’s good for in terms of putting together the crib is reading the directions, at least she can fold the clothes while she’s at it.

* * *

“Dylan?”

Frost think that one over, and Cisco pauses with the ball they’ve been tossing back and forth in his hands, waiting for her to make a decision.

“Maybe.” She answers, and she scribbles _Dylan _down onto the piece of paper on her side of the main console desk.

They’ve stopped any actual work hours ago, now sitting here each leaning back in their respective chairs, her with her feet propped up on the empty one between them.

Cisco tosses her the ball, and she promptly tosses it back. They go a few throws, before he eventually comes up with another name.

“Tristan?”

She shrugs as she catches the ball, and scrunches her nose.

“Pass.”

She tosses the ball back.

“Connor?”

“No C’s.”

He nods, passing her the ball.

“Jamison?”

She almost snorts, but then she starts to think about it.

“Maybe.”

“What?” He asks, catching the ball. “Frost, I was kidding.”

“It’s not a bad name.” She argues with a shrug, adding it to her list and completely enjoying the scandalized look on his face.

“You are going to name your son after a whiskey?”

“Undecided.” She says, pointing her pen at him. “Besides, my name makes me sound like a stripper, so what do you expect from me?”

Cisco rolls his eyes, very dramatically, and she smirks.

He tosses the ball back to her “What about Anthony?”

* * *

She spends Valentines Day, oddly enough, in Norvock’s bar.

He tells her she’s here because she owes him for the use of his sawmill during the alien fiasco, but in her opinion she’s here because he has no idea how to do one normal thing.

She doesn’t either, but she gets the feeling that in his circle of friends she comes the closest.

Ouch.

“How’s this?” She asks, holding up the red ribbon she’s been sliding and taping paper hearts onto for the past fifteen minutes.

He doesn’t look impressed, but then again he never does, so when he takes the streamer from her and moves out from behind the bar to put it up on some random place on the wall she takes it as approval and moves onto the next ribbon.

“No.” She says casually, eyeing where he’s tacking the ribbon. He stops and raises a questioning eyebrow at her, which she matches. “Put it by the sign.”

She points to the sign in question, haphazardly strung up above the empty space of floor where he sometimes has someone playing music, announcing in bright red magic marker that tonight is his _Valentines Singles Mixer._

He scowls, but reroutes himself.

“Shouldn’t it be spread out?”

“Some things.” She shrugs, sliding another heart onto her current piece of ribbon. “But you only have two of these, and that sign looks like a second grader made it.”

“My niece made it.”

She inclines her head to the side, trying to remember how old his niece is.

Eight or nine, she’s pretty sure.

“Frame it with the streamers.” She insists, returning her focus to the one in her hands. “You can hang up the little plastic ones in random places.”

He growls something under his breath but she doesn’t catch it halfway across the room, and she doesn’t really care either. She keeps on with her craft, and when that’s done she moves on to detangling the string of light up plastic hearts.

By the start of the mixer the bar looks... Well, she won’t tell Norvock it still looks like two second-graders did the decorating. They tried, and he looks pretty not miserable with it, so she won’t say anything.

“You sure you don’t want to get out there?” Norvock asks, though they both know that if she were to say yes it would leave him without a bartender.

Good thing they both know she has no desire to say yes.

“Pass.” She says, “I’ve got enough going on right now.”

She lays one hand over her rounded stomach out of habit, and Norvock’s eyes drift down with the motion before flitting back to her eyes.

“You want to DJ?”

There’s a shake to his voice, because offering to trade jobs with her is not something she assumes is easy for him. He trusts her as a bartender, they both know she’s good, and she knows it isn’t that he doesn’t trust her to DJ but, well, she’s never done it before, and his life staying mostly on the straight and narrow depends very heavily on this bar doing well; and this is the first event like this he’s ever tried.

“Thanks,” She says with a smirk, “But I didn’t sit doing arts and crafts all day to sit some more with a playlist and a computer, I need to be on my feet for awhile.”

* * *

“How ya doing?”

She groans, flopped down on the dreamed up image of the couch.

Maybe she should have traded jobs with Norvock.

She’s pretty sure Caity’s question hadn’t been sincere, as she likely knows damn well how she’s doing.

“I am so over being pregnant.” She groans, her elbow propping on the rest at the end of the couch and her head in her hand as she rubs her fingers over her tired eyes. “Everything hurts, I barely sleep because everything hurts, and this kid feels like a fucking… a fucking… I don’t know but he’s pretty damn heavy.”

“Sorry.” Caity winces, “You want me to get out of here so you can sleep better?”

“No, it’s fine.” She mutters, “I haven’t peed in like two hours or something, so I’ll be getting up for that soon.”

Again Caity winces, and the two of them sit together on the couch in silence for a minute.

“What about you?” She asks, cracking her eyes open to look at Caity. “You ready to get out of here?”

Caity looks considerate for a minute, probably trying to figure out how honest of an answer she can take right now.

“Yeah.” She eventually admits, “I’m ready to get back to the world.”

She smirks; she’s ready to have Caity back in the world too.

“One more month.” She reminds her, and Caity’s small frown turns to an excited smile.

“One more month.”

She smirks, and really the thought of her pregnancy only having a month left to go is still terrifying, but at this point she can definitely see the relief in-

“Ugh…” She groans, tipping her head back and running one hand along the side of her stomach.

“What’s wrong?” Caity asks, sitting straight to attention.

“He’s kicking.” She mumbles, and ok, ‘kicking’ at this point is no longer an accurate term. He doesn’t have enough room to do that anymore. It feels more like he is _trying _to kick but instead the lack of space just results in him jumping up and down on her organs; namely her bladder.

“Ah.” Caity says, and Frost furrows her brow and turns her head to look at her.

“You can’t feel it?”

Caity shakes her head.

“Huh.” She says, she had assumed this whole time that Caity could, to an extent, feel the baby. During the time she lived under the surface she could always feel things like pain, and this is certainly painful.

“I just got the hang of talking.” Caity says, as though reading her mind, which she very well could be. “Feeling is a whole other battle.”

She nods, that makes sense. It’s the opposite order she learned things in, but she supposes that’s because their circumstances were so different.

“Well at least you don’t have to worry about feeling it when he’s born.”

The sound Caity makes is some kind of cross between a laugh and a scoff. “Yeah,” she says, “That is not something I would want to feel.”

She chuckles, but fitting with the topic of feeling, she can feel the sensation of her son moving inside of her getting stronger, more real, and the edges of the dream starting to fade.

“He’s going to wake me up.” She muses, and an idea crosses her mind. “Do you remember when you healed Cisco’s hands?”

Caity knits her brows together, obviously confused by the sudden change of topic.

“Yeah… Why?”

She pauses a second before answering, running through the memory to be sure she’s right, but she knows she is.

“It was still you.” She says, “Remember? You had control, I only woke up enough to give you the power.”

“So?” Caity asks, and as the dream fades even more around them she smirks and holds out a hand.

* * *

When Frost wakes up it’s a calm fluttering of her eyes opening. She’s still half sitting up in bed, propped against her pregnancy pillow and rolled slightly to the side, and inside of her she can still feel her son evidently training for gymnastics tryouts.

“Caity?” She asks cautiously, “You still with me?”

_“Yeah.” _Caity’s voice answers, her tone uncertain. _“But what are we-”_

“Just focus.” She says, reaching her hand under her sleep shirt and spreading her palm over the shifting surface of her skin. “Focus on staying under, but also be aware of what’s happening.”

_“And what exactly is happening?”_

She rolls her eyes.

“Just focus.”

She still isn’t sure if Caity really gets it or not, but she isn’t met with another question so she’ll count that as a plus. She stays perfectly still, her focus on Caity rather than the baby doing summersaults under her skin. She’s used to his movements enough by now that putting her mind on other things isn’t impossible. She just hopes that Caity-

_“Ah!”_

She chuckles at the squeal, and feels it as her hand suddenly feels like it’s been numb and is coming back to itself.

“I take it you felt that?”

_“I did!”_

She laughs again, she can feel Caity’s excitement bubbling in the back of her mind, and now she definitely isn’t going to be getting any sleep tonight.

But for once, she doesn’t entirely mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what lovely person it was out there who put a free PDF file of crib assembly instructions good for most cribs sold in the U.S., but you are an ANGEL and I appreciated it so much!


	31. Do You Want to Build a Snowman?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to TheSkyeQuakes for sending me a prompt of Frost and Ralph binge watching Disney movies (specifically Frozen)! I held off on writing it because I thought it might find a place in this story, and here it is!

“Question.”

“Answer.”

Ralph pauses, examining the pretzel in his hand. They’ve tied up a few cases today and are pretty much done for the day, which is good, because she hadn’t wanted to leave him with too many cases before taking her “maternity leave”, but she hadn’t wanted to stay exceedingly late today either.

He licks the salt off his thumb, and then finally proceeds with his question.

“Can I, at some point, hold the baby up like Simba?”

“What?” She asks scrunching her nose, though he appears unfazed.

“Simba. You know, circle of life and everything? I mean obviously I won’t do it before he can hold up his own head but-”

“Hang on, Ralph, what are you talking about?”

Ralph, in response to this, does nothing for a solid five seconds aside from stare at her, and then he finally blinks.

“Simba.” He says again, as if that will suddenly mean something to her the third time. “You know, when Rafiki holds him up at the start of the movie?”

She blinks at him, “Uh…”

And that, it seems, is when he gets that she has no idea what he is talking about.

“The Lion King?” He asks, his voice rising. “Have you never seen The Lion King?”

“No…” She drawls out, “Should I have?”

He scoffs, actually scoffs, and stands up abruptly and throws his hands into the air as though she has personally offended him by having never seen this movie.

“Should you have?” He demands, “It was only the biggest Disney movie for nearly twenty years! Everyone saw it!”

“Yeah, well I don’t know if you remember but I wasn’t included in ‘everyone’ until nine months ago.” She snaps at him, “Didn’t exactly have a childhood to watch Disney movies during.”

With that statement something in his face softens, and something else morphs from offence to pure shock.

“Wait. So even having lived these last nine months, spending them preparing to have a child, you know nothing about Disney?”

She shrugs, undaunted.

“I know Elsa’s Disney.” She says, “I know some basics. The theme parks are a big deal, and they are seriously coming close to infringing on some monopoly laws-”

“Ok.” He interrupts, marching around from his desk, “You, clearly, need a crash course in Disney. Come on, we’re done here for today.”

She’s been moving slower than him for a few weeks now, what with her ballooning size and everything. So normally he slows down, waits for her, but not this time.

This time, he snatches his keys and his coat and marches right out into the hall, and when she starts taking too long even for her he not so patiently calls in for her to get a move on.

* * *

Ralph subscribes to the Disney streaming service, because of course he does.

They left the office less than an hour ago and came back to her place. In the time it took her to change into the softest pajama pants that still fit her and a sweatshirt that was once oversized, he downloaded the app onto her TV, signed into his account, and got a bag of microwave popcorn all ready and is pouring it into two separate bowls by the time she returns to the living room.

She doesn’t know if that’s all a commentary on her speed these days, or his eagerness.

“Ok.” He says decisively as she lowers herself onto the couch. “So we’re going to start with Lion King, because I _need _to know if I can hold the baby up like Simba in front of you or if I have to do it on my own while babysitting.”

She raises an eyebrow at that, but lets it go.

“Then I figure we can get into Frozen. The sequel isn’t on Disney+ yet but the DVD came out earlier this week so tomorrow I can-”

“Whoa, wait.” She interrupts. “Tomorrow? This movie thing is going to last into tomorrow?”

The look he gives her is nothing short of unimpressed.

“You have two weeks before you’re supposed to have a baby, were you planning on doing something else in that time?”

She looks down at her nails, picking at them and trying to come up with an excuse.

“I have to put the car seat in the car.”

“That’s gonna take you two weeks?”

She frowns, and no, she doesn’t actually have any better plans for the next two weeks. She has some laundry to do and she still needs to pack a bag for the hospital, and a few days before she’s due Carla is coming down to stay with her in case the baby comes early and/or in the middle of the night. But overall she doesn’t have plans, and she finds watching _Grey’s Anatomy_ stresses her out more than relaxes her these days.

Besides, he has to go home and to work eventually.

“Fine.” She gives in, and with a grin of victory stretching across his face Ralph settles himself beside her and, after a quick tug of war over the throw blanket, he starts _The Lion King_.

The start of the movie is… interesting, and the song is something she realizes she _has _heard before, in the form of Cisco singing to himself in the workshop.

“That’s what you want to do to my baby?” She asks when she sees the monkey, who Ralph excitedly informs her is Rafiki at the start of the scene, hold up baby Simba on the ledge of a cliff for all the animals below to see.

“Yeah!” He exclaims, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to put paint on his head or anything. Just, you know, hold him up in the living room or something.”

She rolls her eyes, and doesn’t give an answer. But she can’t help but to smirk at the mental image of Ralph holding her baby out above his head and badly singing circle of life, so she supposes her expression is an answer in itself.

The rest of the movie is fine. It’s entertaining enough, and she definitely sees the appeal it has for kids. She doesn’t get how it was Disney’s most successful movie for so long, but whatever.

They take a break between _Lion King_ and _Frozen_ to order a pizza, and after hanging up with the place Ralph starts to movie.

It takes maybe five minutes for her to realize she is going to care about this one much more than _Lion King_.

She watches the scene of Anna and Elsa sneaking down into the castle foyer way past their bedtime and creating a winter wonderland via Elsa’s powers. She smirks, amused. It’s cute. But then Elsa, trying to keep up with her sister’s energy, making snow hills as Anna jumps from one to another faster, and faster, misses.

Worse than misses. She aims wrong, and hits Anna directly in the head with the blast of her power.

It’s barely anything more than a snowball, but Anna goes down. Elsa hurries to her, and Frost watches with her fingers curled tightly into the edge of the blanket as the girls’ parents come running and declare that Anna is getting colder. She watches as they rush her to a village of trolls who can heal her but they have to erase her memories of Elsa’s powers to ensure that she is never put in this kind of danger again.

And Elsa, she’s what? Six? The trolls show her how her powers have the capability to consume her. How wrong they can go.

Then, she’s locked away.

Frost feels the anger and fear flare up in a war in her heart. Elsa’s father giving her the gloves shows that maybe the isolation isn’t as total as it seems, but still. She’s just a kid. She’s a little girl. She was just playing. It isn’t her fault she has powers, she didn’t ask for those.

Her son didn’t ask for those.

She barely hears the knock on the door, but she does hear Ralph saying he’ll get it and before she knows it he is pausing the movie and his warmth is gone from her side, leaving her alone to dwell on the pang of guilt in her heart.

She’s known this whole time having a child with powers would come with some unique challenges, to say the least, but she evidently hasn’t considered what it might be like for her kid.

How could she not consider that?

“You good?”

She looks up, and Ralph is standing not far from the couch with the pizza box in his hands.

“Yeah” She promises, “I’m good.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

“Are you sure?”

She opens her mouth to say yes, she’s sure, she was just zoning out. She’s fine and she wants pizza. But, instead, she darts her eyes to look at the ground but of course the first thing they see his her protruding belly, and it breaks her.

“The doctor said the baby might not get my powers.” She admits, keeping her eyes trained ahead of her. “I know a baby with powers would be a lot to handle but I was hoping he would get them. At least until I saw this and…”

She can feel herself breaking even more, her voice turning to a squeak.

“God, I’m a terrible mother.”

She puts her head into her hands and therefor can only listen to Ralph as he stumbles around her coffee table with the pizza.

“Hey, you are not a terrible mother.” He says, and the couch dips as he sits down next to her and upon feeling his hand resting on her back she looks up to meet his eyes.

Which are imploring her for answers.

She has to sniffle to regain some composure before she can give any.

“I just… I’m still figuring out this whole normal life thing and I’ve needed a lot of help. I know there are going to be a lot of things my kid is going to need that I still haven’t figured out. Caity might have to help him with homework, you’ll be able to help him with friends. Cisco, Barry, and Iris will find things to help him with. But controlling his powers is the one thing I _know_ I could teach him.”

She can feel her eyes watering up as the realization hits her over the head like a smashing bottle.

“I wanted him to have powers because I know I might suck at the normal mom stuff, but I could handle that. I might not pack his lunch right, or scare away every nightmare, but I know I could teach him to use his powers!”

She’s near sobbing at this point, damn hormones, and Ralph is pulling her against him so she can cry into the crook of his shoulder while he whispers into her ear for her to calm down.

“You’re gonna be fine.” He whispers eventually, and her breath hitches angrily. Suddenly she can’t stand to hear that, she can’t stand the lie.

“I’m…. I’m… I’m a sel…Selfish piece of-”

“Hey.” He cuts her off, pushing her from him enough so that she has to look him in the eye.

“You are not selfish.” He firmly insists. “You want to have something that is just between you and your son. That is not selfish, that is being a good parent.”

His face softens then, a little, but he still doesn’t allow her yet to crash back into him.

He does, however, reach out and smooth some of her frazzled hair away from her face.

“Even if he doesn’t have powers,” He starts, his tone much more gentle than before. “You will have plenty of things only you can give him. Maybe the two of you will find a show to watch together, or he’ll decide he only likes playing hide-and-seek with you, or something like that. As for the normal mom stuff, you’ll figure it out. It’ll come naturally.”

She sniffles and wipes her eyes with the cuff of her sweatshirt, shaking her head from side to side in disagreement.

“Hey.” He says, “My mom is a gambler who thought it would be a good idea to tell me every guy she ever dated was dead, and I have never not thought the world of her.”

She smiles, a little, but that smile soon fades as the start of this conversation comes back to her mind.

“What if he does have powers?” She asks, her voice raspy from her tears and so she clears her throat. “Even if I teach him to control them, accidents happen.”

Ralph nods, his face serious again.

“Then we will deal with those accidents when the time comes.”

With that he gets up, opening the pizza box as he does.

“Now.” He says, “I am going to get some napkins.”

He does, and when he gets back he hands her a pile and they each take a piece of pizza.

“You ok now?” He asks, pizza in one hand and the remote in the other. “Do you want to watch something else?”

She shakes her head.

“I want to finish it.” She says, and she really does. “Besides, if anything ever happens with my kid’s powers, that he might not even have, us dealing with it isn’t going to involve memory wiping trolls.”

* * *

She finds that she actually likes the rest of _Frozen_, and after Ralph shows up to her apartment the next day with the DVD of the sequel in hand she determines the king and queen were probably ok leaders, but they were far from perfect in the parenting department.

Which is oddly comforting.

Ralph leaves his account signed in on her TV, and he was right, she really doesn’t have much to do in these two weeks other than lie on her couch and take it easy. So, one day, purely out of curiosity, she decides to open up the app and hopefully he won’t mind her messing up his queue.

Apparently he made a profile for her, so she’s going to guess not.

Over the course of the two weeks she watches a handful of movies before she gets hooked on _Gargoyles_ (which she _has _to check out after feeling Caity flinch in fear in the back of her mind when she come across it). It’s weirdly adult, but also obviously was never marketed as such. She likes it, and it passes the time.

She’s debating whether or not she should watch an episode on the morning Carla is supposed to come.

She wants to, but Carla said she left her house early this morning and so she could be here any minute, and it probably isn’t going to send the best message about her maternal capabilities if she’s watching cartoons when Carla gets here.

Or maybe it would, she has no idea.

All she does know is Carla is trying to be a more emotionally involved mother and so far she’s doing good, but she has a reputation for being critical of Caity and Frost doesn’t want to risk inviting that criticism onto herself.

Not over a cartoon anyway.

Before it was different. When she met Carla at the restaurant and then at the baby shower it was easier. They were going their separate ways in a matter of hours. But this is different. They’re going to be stuck with each other for at least three days, if not longer.

Aw, she might not be able to lie on the couch and watch _Gargoyles _for three days.

In the end she decides to finally get around to packing her hospital bag while she waits for Carla, and incidentally she has only just made it to her room to retrieve the bag when she hears a knock at the door.

She doesn’t know what to expect, as always seems to be the case with Carla, but an exchange of “hellos” and a hug is what she gets, which she supposes is normal for most mothers and daughter.

Not usually them, but they’re working on it.

“You sure you don’t mind coming here?” She asks as she closes the door behind Carla. “I know you had to take off work.”

“Not at all.” Carla insists, “I brought my laptop and some research so I can type up a few lab reports while I’m here.”

Frost smirks, unsurprised.

“So?” Carla asks, looking around the apartment and then back at her. “What have you been up to?”

“Not much.” She shrugs, “Everything important is put together, mostly I’ve been doing laundry and Ralph lets me use his Disney+, so I’ve been watching that. Hospital bag is the only thing left to do.”

“Sounds good.” Carla says with a nod. “Do you need any help with that?”

Her first instinct is to say no, because she very much does not need help, it is one of the few things she doesn’t need help with. But the word is on the tip of her tongue when she realizes it doesn’t matter if she needs help or not. This is something they can do. It will occupy their hands and about half of their minds. It’s something to break the ice.

She brings Carla into her room and is well aware of the older woman pausing behind her in the doorway, taking in the tightly packed space. She knows it’s small. Her queen-size bed sticks out from the back wall and across from it is the crib with barely a walkway between them. Pushed up against the right-side wall she has the changing table, and in the corner next to her bed the stroller is folded up and propped into place looming over her nightstand. On the left-side wall next to the door she has her dresser, the top drawer of which contains the clothes for the baby.

There is also a pile of random junk on the left next to her bed, mostly baby toys she hasn’t found a place for yet and a few socks and shirts that missed the hamper. Also among these things is the diaper bag Joe and Cecile got her, which she’s decided to use for her bag for the hospital. She can feel Carla making an effort to not comment on the room, and she largely ignores it. She’s trying. Besides, she needs to get the bag, which is all the way down on the damn ground, and with a huff of annoyance she braces one arm under her stomach as if that will be of any help and then she slowly, awkwardly, starts what could probably be called a squat to the ground.

“Oh, let me help.” Carla says, hurrying over to her side, and she bends down and grabs the bag.

“Thanks.” Frost huffs, straightening herself up again. “I swear, first thing I’m gonna do after getting this kid out is pick something, anything, up from the floor.”

Carla snickers, evidently amused, and maybe they can survive each other.

Packing the bag takes them less than fifteen minutes. They pack everything they think they’ll need, and Carla talks her out of a few things as well. There are also a few things she needs to talk Carla into, such as headphones.

Dinner is what turns out to be the true test.

“We should do some cooking tomorrow.” Carla declares as they sit down with their spaghetti.

“Yeah?” Frost asks, already not a fan of where this is going. “Why’s that?”

“The last thing you’re going to want, or have time, to do with a new baby around is cook.” Carla points out, “If we make a few meals and put them in the freezer you’ll have them to heat up.”

She considers that, twirling some spaghetti around on her fork. Cecile had told her that at one point too. She said prepping some meals before having Jenna had been a lifesaver for her in the first week. She told Cecile she would keep it in mind, and then promptly left the conversation.

“This spaghetti is the best I can do.” She says around a forkful. Over the past couple months she has managed to master a few things. Grilled cheese, scrambled eggs (though she over does them since eggs are a tricky thing to eat right while pregnant), toast, and spaghetti.

“Well, if you can do this you can do lasagna. That’s a good one to freeze.”

She furrows her brow, “Doesn’t that involve meat?”

Carla shrugs, undeterred. “I can help you with that part.”


	32. Into the Inferno

Frost has never pictured herself spending an entire day cooking, but weirdly enough she finds that she doesn’t completely mind it. The lasagna is the easiest thing they make, and Carla helps her with making a cheese and chicken casserole, along with a few other things that they stuff into the freezer.

At the end of the day they decide to sit down and flip through Netflix.

“I hate that they took Friends off.” Frost grumbles as she scans through, nothing really catching her interest.

“Oh don’t get me started.” Carla says, “I still haven’t found something else to watch at the end of the day.”

Frost hums in agreement, smirking at the idea of Carla returning home after a long day at the lab and turning on Friends for the thousandth time.

Eventually they settle on a movie, _Dumplin’, _which isn’t nearly as funny as Friends but it’s still enough to hold Frost’s attention, to a point.

They’re watching the main characters audition for the local beauty pageant when all of a sudden she feels it; a low, aching sensation in her lower abdomen. At first she just sits there, considering the feeling. Eventually she shifts herself and the ache starts to subside. She knows what it was. One of those Braxton Hicks contractions.

Great.

* * *

Over the next two days she feels a few more of the Braxton Hicks contractions. Some are stronger than others but they all disappear when she starts moving around or drinks water, so none of them are real. Dr. Jones had warned her that it’s normal to deliver late with the first pregnancy, but getting the false contractions two whole days before her due date she really thought she might go into actual labor on time.

She was wrong.

Her due date comes an goes with no sign of the baby, and so the next day she has Carla bring her to the doctor’s in order to see where things are.

She would’ve brought herself, but sitting behind a steering wheel isn’t on her list of comfortable tasks anymore.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” Carla asks after she’s signed in and they’re sitting in the waiting room.

She thinks for a minute. They haven’t yet talked about where Carla will be when she delivers, though Frost has had it at the forefront of her mind and she can’t imagine Carla hasn’t. They’ve been taking this whole thing – their whole relationship – one step at a time.

Now, it seems, they’re at this step.

“If you want.” She decides, “I mean, you’re gonna see way worse in the delivery room.”

Carla smiles at her, and she can’t help smiling back.

“Crystal?” She snaps her head around, seeing the nurse in the door at the far end of the waiting room.

She gets up and Carla follows, and the two of them are led through the back halls of the office, which have become all too familiar to her over the past few months. She knows the drill by now. Sit on the table, get her blood pressure taken, and answer all the questions, all that fun crap. Carla takes a seat in the hard plastic chair in the corner, turning her face away once the nurse is gone and Frost has to take off her pants and lay the blanket over herself. Once that’s done she gives Carla the ok to look, and then it becomes painfully clear that sitting in the tense silence of a doctor’s office, half naked, is that much more uncomfortable when there is someone else with you.

“Was Caity born late?” She asks, and in response Carla snickers.

“Yes she was.” She says, “She was almost a week late.”

Frost groans, she isn’t sure she wants to think about being pregnant for a whole week more.

“Don’t get too worried.” Carla chuckles, “It can be different in everyone.”

“Isn’t that kind of thing hereditary?”

“To an extent.” Carla shrugs, “But you never know.”

Frost hums, unconvinced, but a knock on the door prevents her from thinking about it much further.

“Come in.” She calls, and Dr. Jones enters smiling.

“Hi,” she greets, cheerily, and then her eyes land on Carla. “Oh hello, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dr. Jones.”

Carla stands up and accepts the doctor’s offered hand.

“Carla.” She says, “I’m just here for moral support.”

There’s a slight hesitance to her words, because despite what they just established in the waiting room they still haven’t talked about _it_; what they are to each other and all.

Dr. Jones picks up on the awkwardness, though Frost can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t. Thankfully she allows them to move on and gets into asking her questions and starting an exam.

“Well,” she says, putting away her exam tools. “You’re two centimeters dilated, so you’re getting somewhere. So far your contractions haven’t had a pattern?”  
Frost shakes her head, “No.”

Dr. Jones nods and grabs her clipboard, “Once they start coming regularly keep an eye on things, you remember when to go to the hospital?”

“When they’re six minutes apart, or my water breaks. Whichever comes first.”

Dr. Jones nods, a proud smile on her face as she checks over her chart.

“Good. Oh, your test results came back from last time. Now keep in mind this test is still new and not foolproof, but from what we can tell your powers shouldn’t interfere with an epidural.”

Frost sighs in relief and tips her head back into the rough cushion of the exam chair.

“Yes.”

Dr. Jones chuckles at her reaction, and honestly she doesn’t care. She’d been more worried about that than she would like to admit.

“I’m glad I could give you that good news, at least.” Dr. Jones says as she starts to gather her things. “The rest of this is a waiting game, but you’re moving along. We just can’t tell how quickly.”

She nods; she had pretty much been expecting that answer.

“Ok, thanks.”

* * *

On the ride home she sends a text to the S.T.A.R. Labs group chat, figuring it’s the easiest way to keep everyone updated. She gets a frowny-face emoji from Cisco, and three from Ralph. She then slips her phone back into the cup holder and leans back in her seat, trying to not think about how there is evidently no telling when the baby will come.

Turns out that is pretty much impossible.

“Do you have to get back to Keystone?”

Carla barely glances at her, her eyes set firm on the road, and Frost knows that isn’t a good sign.

“I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon.” She answers, “I hadn’t made the call to cancel it yet-”

“Go.” Frost says, and this time Carla does tear her eyes away from the road long enough to look at her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She says, “It looks like it’s still going to be awhile before anything happens. Go to your meeting, I’ll keep you posted if something happens.”

“And what if it does?” Carla asks, “Those meetings typically run late, I might not be back until the next morning. What if you need to get to the hospital?”

“I’ll call Ralph.” She shrugs, “Or Iris, or Cisco. Someone will be around. I won’t have to give birth on the bathroom floor.”

Carla still doesn’t look totally convinced, but the logic is sound. If something does happen in the next twenty-four hours that requires going to the hospital, she’ll find a way there.

* * *

The next morning Frost wakes up early, which has been a pattern over this last month. She lays awake in bed for a few minutes and then - when it’s become obvious she isn’t going to get back to sleep - she hefts herself up and goes about her new morning routine.

First she goes to the bathroom, despite having woken up to go just two hours ago, and then she goes out into the living room. Over the past three days her and Carla have watched a few Disney movies, and in doing so Carla saw Gargoyles in her queue and laughed. She still isn’t sure about the other woman’s judgment on her chosen binge show, but of all her worries right now it is the least of them. So she settles herself onto the couch and starts the next episode, an irritating fake contraction hitting her as she does so.

Whatever.

Carla comes out of Caity’s room about halfway through the episode, dressed in a business suit with her computer bag strung over her shoulder.

“Ok.” She says, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Remember to call me if something happens.”

“I will.” Frost promises, and with a huff that sounds mostly assured Carla comes over to the couch and bends down to give her a hug goodbye.

It’s a little awkward, but more out of positioning than hesitance, even if there is still some hesitance. It’s a step in the right direction for them.

Once Carla is gone Frost finishes her episode and decides she may as well start the next one. She’s only a few minutes into it when she becomes aware of another false contraction hitting her. It’s when she is at roughly the same spot time wise in the third episode and is hit with another contraction that she starts to wonder if maybe, even if they aren’t intense yet, maybe they’re real.

So, she sets a timer.

It’s the start of her fourth episode, twenty-five minutes and six seconds later; she’s hit by another.

“Huh.” She muses to herself, running a hand over her stomach. “Finally ready to get out of there, kid?”

The contraction dissipates, so she starts her timer again, and keeps watching her show.

The next contraction comes right on time; twenty-five minutes and ten seconds from the last one. This is starting. Slow and light, but starting.

She pauses the show and grabs her phone from its place charging on the table next to her, deciding to send Carla a text.

_Frost: Having regular contractions. 25 minutes apart, don’t rush back._

With that sent she then debates if she should text the group chat or just Ralph, or nobody at all. She would like someone to know she’s getting closer, and she’s sure the others all would like to know, but at the same time she doesn’t want to deal with her phone buzzing with four different people responding.

While she’s trying to figure it out, Carla texts her back.

_Carla: Are you sure?_

She looks at the message a minute, attempting to determine whether Carla is asking if she’s sure she shouldn’t race back, or if she’s sure she’s having contractions.

She supposes it doesn’t matter; the answer is the same either way.

_Frost: Yes, I’m sure. Gonna let Ralph know._

Well, she might as well keep her word.

_Frost: Having actual contractions. Not bad yet, 25 minutes apart. Just letting you know._

When Ralph doesn’t answer right away she un-pauses her show, and when her phone does buzz a few minutes later with his message in preview she pauses it again.

_Ralph: Ok, want me to come over?_

Honestly, all she wants is to watch her show in peace.

_Frost: No, I’m good._

_Ralph: Ok. Keep me posted._

She rolls her eyes as she discards her phone, not responding to that. She knows he means well, but the last thing she wants to deal with right now is anyone hovering over her. She’s sure she has plenty of that ahead of her at the hospital.

She keeps watching TV, and her next contraction comes a little more painful than the last but still not enough to make her give more than a wince. She starts her timer over again and the next one comes only a minute ahead of schedule, but it feels weird.

Bad weird.

Frankly, she doesn’t think much of it. It hurts about the same as the last one, but it’s accompanied by something else. A roll of her stomach, and duh, she hasn’t gone to the bathroom since she woke up.

She pauses the TV and with a huff forces herself to her feet, and as soon as she stands she regrets it. The back of her neck feels hot, her hands feel sweaty.

“What?” She asks herself, and she tries to walk but her body barely wants to. She turns and leans over, braces her weight against the top of the couch and breathes in deep.

And then it’s over.

Quick as it had come.

She stands there for a minute, just breathing, but the heat melts away from her skin and her hands cool down.

Maybe… Maybe she got up too suddenly?

She’s going to go with that.

She goes about her day after that, the contractions slowly but steadily getting closer together, as well as longer and more obvious.

Carla calls around dinner to check in and although Frost tries to talk her out of it she insists that she’s coming back tonight. Fine, whatever. If things speed up in the middle of the night it’ll be better to have her here.

Ralph sends a few texts throughout the day as well, and for the most part she tries to not snap at him. He’s only trying to help, and he is keeping his distance even though she is sure he would much rather be here taking up space on her couch and failing to distract her from how utterly miserable she feels.

It’s not that his check-ins are even that annoying, but once the contractions start getting more painful she is very much NOT in the mood to be around people. It feels like someone has a barbed wire lain across her lower abdomen and secured firmly in a wrap around her tailbone, and it’s being twisted at all possible angles.

The “bad weird” feeling from before is something she has accepted must just be a part of labor. It gets worse with each contraction that hits. She’s sweat through her shirt already, if she had the strength she would just rip it off. She’s somehow managed to kick off her pants, searching for the cool air to bring down the aura of heat that seems to have penetrated her powers and consumed her. Unfortunately the removing of her pants has done almost nothing. She is still sweating buckets, writhing on the living room floor because the cushions of the couch held too much heat. The only relief comes when her contractions end, and give her a reprieve.

At this point, that reprieve is fifteen minutes.

She gasps as the latest one fades out. The slick heat that’s engulfed her starts to melt away, finally allowing her legs to recognize the chill of the March air around them.

She lets herself lay there a minute, breathing in and out, before she finally swallows down a nauseous feeling and slowly pulls herself up.

“Ok.” She huffs, bracing her weight on the coffee table.

She clamors her hands from that to the cushion of the couch, to the arm, and to the end table where she holds herself a minute before she pushes off.

“Ok.”

She’s been told before it’s normal to throw up during labor, and at after that she is well aware that may be coming soon. Her contractions need to be closer together before she goes to the hospital, and her water hasn’t broken yet, so this is going to be fun.

She stumbles her way around the couch, keeping one hand on it, and then running that hand along the wall as she makes for her bedroom. She grabs a blanket and, upon realizing she will need something to do between contractions, she drops that blanket in the doorway of the bathroom as she passes on her way back to the living room. She slowly gets to her knees to get her phone from the floor, and then somehow manages to pull herself back up and get to the bathroom with time to spare before another bout of pure hell comes for her.

She opts to leave the bathroom door open, in case Carla comes back. She strips off her drenched shirt and tosses it aside, shivering as the cold air assaults her skin and she pulls the blanket over herself. This will work. She can keep warm between contractions, and easily toss the blanket aside when she’s consumed by heat.

She browses the Internet on her phone for eight minutes before it starts again.

It happens all at once, barely an ache at the start before it skyrockets into an assault of a chainsaw at her uterus and she can’t get the blanket off fast enough. She claws at it, pushing it away with near-feral desperation before she is on her knees and lurching forward, coughing up the applesauce she’d eaten for lunch in a sickeningly thin stream of sour. She inhales deep, gagging on more bile that lands more on the toilet seat than in the bowl, she’s still gasping when she pulls away, and that is when she realizes that something is very, _very,_ wrong.

The world starts to blur, flickering in and out with darkness. She tries to summon all of her will to stay _awake_, she can feel the ice in her eyes as they turn from brown to blue, but they flicker.

And she doesn’t stay.


	33. Let it Go

Caitlin is aware of what is happening on the surface. She’s aware of it getting worse, which means things are getting closer, and then she feels something she hasn’t felt in months.

She feels herself slipping to the surface.

At first she’s confused. It’s too soon. Her awareness isn’t always 100% under here, but she knows this is too soon. Then she feels Frost’s fear, her panic, her fighting to stay awake and she_ knows_ this isn’t right.

She tries to bury herself beneath the surface but she can’t. Frost’s pain is now rocking through her and before she knows it she is gasping, sour bile on her tongue as her eyes open to the blur of the bathroom.

“Caity?”

Her name comes in a strained whisper, a very real sound made from her own mouth. The blurry world flickers to dark and then back to light, no details any clearer. She tries to answer Frost but all that comes out is a strangled gag and some drool.

She tries again, but right as she does the pain starts to subside and suddenly she can concentrate again.

She goes back under.

* * *

Frost gasps a long, guttural breath as she starts to come back to herself. She picks up her head and blinks, looking around at the bathroom as the pain fades and the world comes back into focus. Her arms are folded over the toilet seat, her forearm smushed into the pile of vomit that landed there earlier.

“Cait… Caity?” She asks, panting and grimacing, reaching for some toilet paper to wipe her arm.

_“Call Cisco.” _The reply comes immediately, breathless like her own voice, but an echo in her mind as it should be. _“Get the power cuffs.”_

She nods. That’s a plan. Whatever just happened, that can stop it from happening again.

Her whole body is shaking with the chill in the air, not to mention a good amount of shock. Still, she picks up her phone and with trembling fingers she locates Cisco’s contact.

* * *

_Buzz, buzz._

Kicking off the side of his desk Cisco wheels himself over to the main monitors, where is phone is buzzing on the corner.

“Hey Frosty, baby coming yet?”

“Maybe.” She answers, in a breathless voice that is far too serious for his liking. “Are the dampening cuffs still set to heat spikes?”

“Uh…” He splutters, his mind reeling even though he knows the answer. “Yeah. Yeah, they are.”

“Ok.” She snaps, “I need you to have Barry run them over here, _now_.”

He nods, which is pointless because she can’t see it.

“And actually.” She adds, “I need you too. I don’t want Barry running me, and I need to get to the hospital.”

“Ok.” He manages, shoving his chair away and jogging his way down to the lab. “Ok, Ralph’s in the lounge. I’ll grab him and we’ll be there soon.”

“Ok, thank you.”

* * *

As soon as she hangs up Frost sags back against the tub, breathing in deep and running a hand through her hair. She looks around the room, taking stock. Her shirt is flung halfway across the floor and she really doesn’t feel like wrestling herself back into it. She pulls her blanket up to her chest and is just reaching back to tie up her hair when Barry comes skidding to a halt in the doorway.

His eyes are wide as he takes in the sight of the room, the sight of her, and he very awkwardly holds up the pair of dampening cuffs for her to see.

“Uh…Cisco said you needed these?”

She nods, finishes tying up her hair, and then with one hand holds the blanket to her chest and sticks the other one out.

“Yeah, Caity came out.”

“What?” He asks, handing over the cuffs.

“She wasn’t trying to.” She laminates, securing the cuffs around her wrists. “She tried staying under, and I… I don’t think she fully came out. It was weird. I didn’t go totally under. It was like we were both half awake, if that makes any sense.”

Barry nods; though it’s obvious by his expression what she’s said doesn’t make much sense to him at all.

“Ok. Cisco and Ralph are on their way. Do you uh… Do you need anything before they get here?”

Frost thinks on that, taking another look around the bathroom, down at herself, and then back to him bouncing on his heels in the doorway.

“Do you remember that night you brought Caity home drunk and helped her get changed?”

At first Barry does nothing except for stare at her, and then his floundering expression moves back and forth between her and her bedroom door down the hall.

“Uh… What do you want?”

“Sweats.” She says with a half-hearted shrug, “Something that zips.”

He nods, and in the blink of an eye there is a whoosh, and then her blanket is gone and she’s dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a zip-up sweatshirt.

And Barry? Barry is standing in the center of the bathroom with his hands knocking together in front of him, and his beat red face tilted up at the ceiling.

“Ok, you are not wearing a bra.”

She rolls her eyes, muttering an insincere apology as her phone buzzes and she reaches for it. Barry – wisely – starts spluttering out an apology of his own that she only half listens to as she reads over Ralph’s text that he and Cisco are here and on their way up.

“They’re here.” She interrupts him, “Help me up?”

For the record, her getting up from being completely on the ground is a process on a good day. But now, with her legs barely willing to function, it is nothing short of an embarrassment.

She accepts Barry’s offered hand, but when he tries to pull her up she finds she needs her other hand to hold tightly onto his arm. He responds to this by placing his other hand at her side, pulling her up with more effort and she ends up with her hands climbing their way to his shoulders. They both stumble a bit at she gets her footing, her whole body is trembling, part from the cold and part from, well, everything else. Barry watches her every move with wide and fearful eyes even once she’s up, and she is too worried to be offended by it. She takes a deep breath before she dares to move her heavily dependent grip from his shoulders to the sink, and right as she does she hears her front door open and Cisco calling out her name.

“Frost? You here?”

“In here!” She calls back, and soon she has both hands braced on the countertop of the sink and Barry is backing off, letting her see Cisco and Ralph frozen in the doorway.

“Shit.” Cisco whispers, and she can only imagine how she looks right now.

Paler than normal and scared out of her freaking mind sounds about right.

“Where are you right now?” Cisco asks, and she swallows, steeling herself.

“Contractions are fifteen minutes apart.” She answers, “Last about a minute, and they’re getting stronger.”

“Ok.” Cisco says, wearily, knowing there’s something more to this. “Why’d you ask for the cuffs?”

“Caity started coming up with the last one.”

Both Cisco and Ralph’s eyebrows shoot up to heir hairlines.

“She didn’t want to.” She continues, and she already knows she is going to have to explain this again once they get to the hospital. “She tried to fight it, we both did. I think we ended up stuck halfway, if that’s possible. It was like we were both half up, half under.”

“Ok.” Cisco says, his voice shaking, and Frost finds that _that _scares her more than any of this.

Cisco knows how her powers work maybe better than she and Caity do. He’s looked over both their DNA’s, studied their capabilities, and if he looks scared by what she’s reported then that means there is no easy answer.

“How long ago was your last contraction?” He asks, and she tries to come up with the time, but she’s been a little focused on other things since the contraction ended.

“A few minutes, I think. I called you right after it ended.”

He nods, pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through it, and then hastily shoves it back in his pocket.

“Time stamp has that at nine minutes ago. Do you think you can make it to the car in six minutes?”

She nods, and tries to take a step. However her entire body trembles with the effort and Ralph surges forward and comes up beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and so she lets go of the sink and grabs on to him with both hands.

She doesn’t try to take another step. She should, she knows she should, but first she looks up to Ralph to make sure this is ok. She knows she isn’t light and she’s leaning just about all of her weight into him. The look she gets in return is one of concern, and his hand tightens on her waist and his other arm wraps around her from the front and grips onto her elbow, further holding her up.

“Ok.” Barry says, breaking the silence. “I’m gonna call the hospital and let them know you guys are coming, Iris and I will meet you there.”

“Can you stop at S.T.A.R. Labs to?” She asks before she can stop herself. “Send a message to the Waverider?”

Three sets of eyes stare at her then, but thankfully when one of them finally decides to add words to his opinion it’s Barry, and the words aren’t a judgment.

“Yeah.” Then he’s gone.

The three of them left in the bathroom exchange looks, and then Cisco pulls his phone from his pocket, checks the time, and curses again.

“Four minutes.”

“My bag’s in my room.” She says, and with a hasty nod Cisco rushes down the hall and so she and Ralph start stumbling along.

She tries to move quickly, and after a minute she is almost moving normal. She manages to get off Ralph’s arm even, but he doesn’t leave her side. Good, because if her next contraction is anything like her last she might need him to catch her.

Cisco emerges from her room with her hospital bag strung haphazardly over his shoulders and leads the way out of the apartment. They take the elevator down to the lobby, and right as they get in Cisco announces that they should have two more minutes.

They should.

“Ralph.” She says, her voice low and panicked because she can feel it starting already.

She starts to grab for his arm but her body seems to have other ideas. Instead her hands brace themselves on her knees hard. She doubles over as much as her belly will allow her. She hears Cisco swear again and feels Ralph’s hand on her back.

“Breathe.” He says to her. “It’s ok, it’s ok. Just breathe.”

She tries to do as he says, but the breath comes as a sharp inhale with a shuttering release. She tries again, and tries to ignore the all-consuming fire overtaking her body. She wonders if Ralph can feel it through her sweatshirt, but then his hand isn’t on her back anymore.

Her knees start to give and suddenly he’s appeared in front of her, holding her up with his hand under her arms. She wants to wrap her arms around him and hold onto him for all she’s worth but she can’t. They’ll both collapse to the ground if she does. He’s bending down below her, instructing her to breathe, and she sees him flinch when instead of breathing out she gags.

Thankfully this isn’t a gag that feels like it will lead to anything. There is nothing left in her stomach for her to throw up.

That fact only makes the next gag twice as painful.

There’s a ding in the background, and Ralph gently pulls her forward.

“Come on.” He encourages, “Come on.”

Right, she has to get out of the elevator.

She sucks in one more breath and the feeling starts to fade, the contraction over. She manages – on very shaky feet – to follow Ralph’s lead out into the lobby.

“Good job.” He says when they get out there, and she takes another few breaths in and out.

He doesn’t push her to move, and it is only after she has managed to straighten herself up – mostly - that she realizes Cisco is gone.

She looks around the lobby, and Ralph must realize that she’s looking for him.

“He went to drive the car up.” He informs her, “Least I think, he just held up his keys and ran.”

She nods, and as though on cue Cisco’s car pulls up outside the building door.

She clings to Ralph’s arm as they walk outside, and when Ralph stops and looks between the passenger door and the backseat she reaches forward and opens the back door.

“That was terrifying.” Cisco deadpans as she slides into the seat behind him, Ralph getting into the one next to her and closing the door.

“No shit.” She growls.

“That almost looked like one of your panic attacks.” Ralph says as Cisco starts driving.

“I think that’s part of it.” She agrees, swallowing another gulp of air. “Least it is now. But what happened with Caity hasn’t happened since we found out the kid is mine.”

And the reason it happened is something she can’t bear to think about.

“That’s not what’s happening now.” Cisco says determinedly, his eyes meeting hers in the overhead mirror before he has to focus back on the road. “Labor puts your body into overdrive. I’d bet you anything it freaked out and tried bringing her up cause it’s used to bringing you up for her pain. Now that you have the cuffs on you’re gonna be fine.”

She nods, running a hand over her stomach, hoping that he’s right.

“How long until we get to the hospital?”

In the mirror she can see Cisco cringe at her question.

“About twenty minutes.”

She groans, and frankly she doesn’t know why she asked because she already knew that.

As the minutes tick by she can feel her body starting to cool down, and she keeps running one hand along her stomach in hopes of feeling the baby move, but so far no luck.

She’s trying not to let that bother her. She’s read that it’s normal to not feel the baby moving during labor. With all the contractions and general other stress of labor he might not move around that much, but even so she’s nervous. What if something is seriously wrong? What if Caity coming up even halfway hurt him, even if it was only for a minute? What if Caity was coming out for a reason only her body is aware of? Should she have conceded and gone under? What if-?

“Hey.”

Ralph interrupts her thoughts; giving her a look she thinks is supposed to be comforting.

“Don’t worry about it.” He encourages, “Think about something else.”

“Like what?” She scoffs, and he stutters at first, floundering for a topic.

“Well… Uh… Do you have a name yet?”

She shrugs, and decides she’ll humor this for both their sakes.

“I’m down to two.”

“_Please,_” Cisco stresses from the driver’s seat. “Do not tell me one of them is Jamison.”

She smirks, “Ok, three.”

Cisco groans and Ralph chuckles next to her.

“I wasn’t serious!”

“It’s a nice name.” She defends, though in all honesty she ruled Jamison out not too long after he had said it. Not for his reasoning of it being after whiskey, but it’s a little too formal sounding for her tastes.

Not that he needs to know that.

“So, with the other two, are you trying to figure out which will be the first name and which will be the middle name?” Ralph asks, trying to stay on topic.

“No.” She says with a shake of her head, “Actually I’m still working on a middle name. I feel like that’s supposed to mean something but I can’t think of any good ones.”

“Well if you want his middle name to be after someone, Cisco is available.”

She rolls her eyes, “Is that a joke too?” She asks, knowing very well it partially isn’t.

“No!” Cisco huffs, indignant.

She grants his reaction a laugh, and then the car is suddenly quiet.

“What about Thomas?” Ralph suggests, and she shakes her head.

“I thought about it.” She admits, “I think it’s better to save that one for Caity.”

Ralph looks like he has some sort of an opinion on that, but before he can make any kind of comment her phone starts ringing in her back pocket, and she knows before she pulls it out who it is.

Upon adjusting her position and retrieving the little device she finds that she’s right, and she swallows hard before answering.

“Hi Carla.”

“Crystal, where are you? I just got back to your apartment.”

She closes her eyes, cringing, and when she feels Ralph shifting closer next to her – probably afraid she is having another contraction – she waves him off.

“My contractions were getting really bad, not close, but bad. So Cisco and Ralph are taking me to the hospital.”

She can see the disagreement on Ralph’s face, in the firm line of his lips, because her contractions are absolutely getting closer. Which, ok, fine, they are. But they aren’t close enough yet that she should be going to the hospital solely because of that.

“Are you kidding me?” Carla shouts on the other end of the phone, and she can hear a door closing loudly. “I knew I shouldn’t have left!”

“Relax, we just left the apartment.” She tries to reason, and then she feels it again, the heat that comes with the pain of the next contraction creeping up her body. “Just meet us at the hospital.”

“I told you to call me if it was getting bad.”

“I know.” She seethes through the first wave of pain, and this time when Ralph perks up on alert she meets his eyes with a silent confirmation. “I would’ve, but Cisco could get to me sooner-”

She cuts herself off, leaning forward with her hand that isn’t holding the phone holding at her side, and her mouth open with a silent gasp of pain.

“You should have texted when things started-”

“Mom, I can’t talk about this now!” She interrupts, quickly, leaning her head back and forcing in a long, shuttering breath. “Just meet us at the hospital.”

She hangs up before Carla can say anything more, dropping her phone unceremoniously onto the seat, which it bounces off and lands on the floor.

“Hey-”

It could be said that Ralph stops his own words, or it would also be accurate to say that she does it. Her head lolls to the side and when she opens her mouth a choking burp comes halfway up, followed painfully by some burning bile that had somehow remained in her stomach to this point.

“What’s going on???” She hears Cisco panic from the driver’s seat, but she closes her eyes. The streetlights zooming by outside the windows is suddenly too much to look at, and the sound of his voice too much to listen to. “Frost? You throwing up in my car again?”

She doesn’t answer.

Instead she pants, turns her head into the back of her seat, and she hears Ralph unbuckle and feels him coming closer. She flinches when he touches her. It’s too much. Her breath becomes heavier as she tries to drown out every sound that isn’t it.

“Do you have any cold water?!” Ralph asks in a panic, and despite how little she wants to focus on anything that is not her own breathing, cold water would be a godsend right now.

“Oh yeah, I just keep a cooler here in the passenger seat!” Cisco snaps, “There might be a half drunk bottle rolling around somewhere, probably stays cold in this weather.”

She hears Ralph rustling around after that, along with Cisco announcing they should be at the hospital soon. The pain continues to rock through her and she squeezes her eyes tighter through it, her breath hitching in almost a cry as she digs her fingers into the stationary handle of the door.

“Hey, hey it’s ok. It’s ok.” Ralph’s words are accompanied by the weight of something laying haphazardly over her, and something icy being placed much more carefully on the back of her neck.

She shivers but the feeling is more than welcome. She dares to crack open her eyes and she sees Ralph next her, a near-empty plastic bottle in his hand and his jacket missing. The jacket in question is what was thrown over her, and as she gains more awareness she realizes the sleeve of the jacket is what is lying on the back of her neck; sopping wet from cold water being dumped onto it.

She starts to catch her breath as the contraction subsides, straightening up and trying not to look at the puddle of vomit next to her and half on her pants.

“I swear…” She says through her panting. “If we get there and they tell me this is normal… I am _never _having another kid.”

* * *

Turns out, this isn’t normal.

After admitting her and failing to get her hooked up to the proper monitors in time for the next contraction from hell she is forced to endure another, but at least this time she has every possible strap and wire on her and Dr. Jones observing.

But it isn’t Dr. Jones’ reaction to the monitors that scares her.

It’s Cisco’s.

His eyes are wide and focused on the screen that she’d been told is showing the readings for her vitals; not the baby’s.

“What is it?” She demands of him, yanking off the oxygen mask Dr. Jones had given her. She hadn’t thrown up this time, though she had still dry heaved and choked and apparently that was worrying.

“Remember when Ralph said your contraction looked like your panic attacks?” He asks, and she nods. “You’re body’s panicking.”

At first all she does is stare at him, and Dr. Jones takes her moment of hesitation as an opportunity to step forward and guide the oxygen mask back into place.

“It’s your healing abilities.” She explains, “You’re experiencing intense pain and so your body is trying to heal it, but of course there is nothing to heal, so it’s next response is to shut down.”

She pulls off the mask again, ignoring the frown on her doctor’s face.

“What about the baby?” She questions, “Is it hurting him?”

“No.” Dr. Jones answers, much to her relief. “But I am worried that as the contractions worsen your healing powers may shut your body down completely and you could lose consciousness.”

Right, and with the way things are going she doubts the contractions will have to get much worse before she that happens.

“What about a C-section?” Ralph suggests, “Isn’t that what you guys normally do when natural labor gets too dangerous?”

She tries her best not to react to that. The last thing she wants to think about is being cut into right now.

“Normally.” Dr. Jones agrees, “But given that her healing abilities are acting apart from her consciousness I’m afraid her body may heal the incisions before the baby can be removed.”

Great. Not that she wants a C-section, but good to know her body is being too uncooperative for it.

“Giving her an epidural should help.” Dr. Jones continues, and those words are music to her ears. “But in the past I’ve also given meta-patients a power suppressor if their powers began to present challenges such as this.”

“Great, can I have that?” She asks, and Dr. Jones’ face gives her the answer before her words do.

“Your powers are too ingrained into your DNA, remember?”

She deflates, because of course she remembers, but then her eyes land on Cisco still looking at the screen.

“What about that thing you gave me for my eyes and my voice?” She asks, and he looks up, his own eyes wide.

“What?” He asks,

“That thing you-”

“I know.” He interrupts, stepping forward. “Just… That’s too risky.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s an all or nothing deal.” He deadpans, “Basically your powers were operating at 110%, I brought you down to 100. The more of that I give you the further down your powers go, and maybe I could figure out how to reverse it but right now… I can’t promise that.”

He’s pleading with her, letting her know loud and clear what his words mean. Potentially… She’s talking about losing her powers forever.

But, if there is anyone who could figure that snag out, it’s him.

Even if he can’t, it’s her powers or her baby.

“Do it.”


	34. Take my hand

Turns out there is one thing that Frost hates more than labor, and that is the legal system.

The hospital, evidently, can’t give her any type of treatment that isn’t approved by the FDA, and they _really _can’t condone friends giving her an experimental drug under their watch. They also can’t give her an epidural because she isn’t four centimeters dilated yet. What they can do is discharge her, and after she does “whatever she needs to do”, in Dr. Jones’ words, she can come back for fluids considering how much she’s thrown up.

She isn’t happy about any of this, but her other option was to get the fluids first so, here she is with Ralph and Cisco helping her back to the car, Barry already waiting there with Cisco’s little power-dampening injector.

So far her contractions are still a steady thirteen minutes apart, so they should have another five minutes before another one hits.

There is an exchange of a glance between Barry and Ralph before Barry opens the passenger side door and moves aside so she can get in. She sits sideways on the seat, her legs stretched in front of her and feet still on the pavement. Once she’s settled Ralph backs off from her side, replaced by Cisco.

He crouches down next to her, his face pale and a clear worry in his eyes.

“Please tell me your hands are steady enough for this.” She quips, because she knows this look. He isn’t worried that this won’t work; he’s worried that it will, and he won’t be able to undo it.

“Just remember.” He says, licking his lips and holding up the pen. “I didn’t invent this, Ray Palmer did, so I don’t know how to reverse engineer it yet.”

“Well then it’s a good thing we already called the Waverider.” She snips, hoping to lighten his mood, but it doesn’t seem to work.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Is it going to change my hair?” She asks, and that, at least, gets him to crack the tiniest of smiles.

“I don’t think so.”

She smirks, “I’m sure, now please do it before another contraction hits and I pass out.”

He nods, and then with one hand on her shoulder he gets up enough to press the little device against her neck.

It feels like a stream of bubbling air entering her veins, flowing opposite her blood, and it’s over within an instant. She opens her eyes and looks up at her three friends looking down at her.

“How do we know if it worked?” She asks, and with a nervous sigh Cisco reaches down and gently takes hold of one of her hands, turning it over in his so he can undo the dampening cuff, and then he does the same with the other.

“Your next contraction shouldn’t be as bad.” He says, “I mean, I’m sure it’ll still suck, but hopefully your body won’t try passing out again to deal with it.”

She nods, and thus the four of them are left in silence.

“You want to go back in?” Ralph asks, “The doctor said once we were done you could go back for fluids.”

She thinks about it a second, and then shakes her head.

“Not yet.” She decides, “Lets wait until the next contraction is over, so we know it worked.”

In response to that Cisco checks his phone, “two minutes” he announces, and she nods.

Two minutes.

Two minutes, apparently, is a long time to spend doing nothing in a parking lot.

Barry leans up against the side of the car, his arms crossed and his toe kicking at a pebble. Cisco lets out a long breath, puts his hands behind his head and starts pacing, and Ralph leans against the car between Barry and her.

“You ok?” He asks, and then he squats down to be more at her level. “Really ok? I mean, you might have just given up your powers and I know you were hoping those could be something to have in common with the baby.”

She thinks for a minute, trying to find a sense of panic inside of her that, oddly enough, she isn’t having luck with.

“Yeah.” She drawls, “Yeah, I’m ok.”

“Really?”

She smirks, both surprised and pleased that she’s finding his skepticism unwarranted.

“Really.” She promises, “Don’t get me wrong, I hope Cisco can reverse it. But if he can’t… It’s like you said, I’ll figure out the normal mom stuff.”

He smiles at her, a proud smile that makes her feel warm inside, until she notices someone approaching their car and that smile turns into a dreading frown.

“Oh crap.” She grimaces, and with a confused expression Ralph turns his head, and she knows he sees her.

Carla.

She’s marching toward them in her business suit and heels, her hands up in exasperation and Frost feels what color she has drain from her face and then, of course, to make matters worse, she feels the aching start of her next contraction.

Ralph starts to straighten up but she grabs his hand, and when he looks back at her she tightens her grip and he must see the pleading look on her face because he squats back down, angling himself so that he can still face her but also communicate with the others if he needs to.

“How bad is it?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as she squeezes her knee with the hand that isn’t squeezing his.

“Bad.” She groans, “But I don’t think I’m gonna puke.”

“That’s good.” He says, swapping out the hand she’s holding for his other one, using his now free hand to rub her back. “Just remember to breathe.”

She’s trying, and so far she’s thinking Cisco was right. This still sucks, but she doesn’t feel like a fever has suddenly crashed over her and she can focus a lot better through it.

“Why are you all standing in the parking lot?!” She hears Carla demand and she laughs, which is definitely something she wasn’t able to do through the contractions before Cisco’s injection.

Speaking of Cisco, he’s trying to explain what it is they’re doing, however Frost can see Carla looking right past him and at her the entire time, worry outlining her features.

* * *

Once the contraction passes they head back into the hospital and she gets readmitted for fluids, Dr. Jones promising her that they can keep her for four hours and if she dilates to four centimeters in that time they can admit her for labor and give her the epidural.

She’s already at three centimeters, so the chances of that aren’t actually terrible.

At least, that’s what she is choosing to believe.

Even without her pesky healing powers going haywire her contractions are still awful. She’s curled in on her side on the hospital bed, the pillow that is supposed to be for her head under her stomach for support, and shitty support at that.

Carla is sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing nonsense patterns on her back, and why the fuck is that everyone’s response to pain? It doesn’t help. Whatever, the confusion of it at least gives her something else to think about, and it might not help physically but maybe it isn’t supposed to. She doesn’t want Carla to leave, and when Ralph had done this for her out at the car she hadn’t wanted him to stop until the pain did. Maybe it’s so she feels less alone.

She breathes out in relief as the contraction comes to an end, her body relaxing even if only marginally.

“There.” Carla says softly, no real meaning to the word.

She hums and doesn’t move. She straightens her legs out a bit, runs a hand over her stomach, but she doesn’t dare try and actually move yet.

The door opens a second later and she cranes her head enough to see Ralph entering, holding up another flimsy hospital pillow.

“Hey.” He greets, “Got a nurse to give me another one, Cisco’s on his way back to your place to get a better one.”

“Ok.” She breathes, rolling herself so that she’s on her back, and due to the angle of the bed more sitting than lying. “Thanks.”

Ralph nods and hands her the new pillow. She doesn’t bother trying to put it behind her head and instead tucks it at her side, it’s just as shitty as the first one and she needs the support at her stomach before she needs it at her head.

“Still thirteen minutes apart?” He asks with a grimace.

“Yeah.” She says, frowning down at herself with one hand still resting over her stomach. “This kid is not in a hurry to get out.”

“I’m sorry.” He says, and then he starts looking around until he locates the uncomfortable plastic chair in the corner of the room and pulls it up.

“You completely skipped fourteen minutes.” Carla reminds her, “He might come sooner than you think.”

She hums in acknowledgement, though she doesn’t really believe that.

“Barry had to run and take care of some Flash business.” Ralph says, going for a change of topic. “Nothing big, him and Iris will be here later.”

She nods, and then the room is quiet.

“Well.” Carla says after a minute, getting to her feet. “If you kids are ok here, I’m going to get a coffee.”

“Ok.” Frost says, and so with a smile down to her Carla leaves.

The door closes behind her and for another minute she and Ralph sit in silence.

“So…” Ralph eventually drawls out. “Where are you guys at?”

“We’re good.” She says with a shrugs, “I think she’s still mad I waited so long to call you guys, and that I didn’t keep her as updated as I could’ve. But she can’t be too mad when I’m doubling over in pain every couple minutes.”

Ralph snickers, before his face becomes serious again. “And… the whole mom thing?”  
She pauses, trying to place what he’s talking about, and then she remembers the phone call in the car, how she hung up.

“I don’t think we’re gonna talk about it.” She says with a shrug, “I said it, she hasn’t said anything against it, so that’s where we are now.”

Ralph nods, and that’s that.

* * *

The next four hours go by painfully, but she wasn’t expecting anything less. Over the course of that time she watches a lot of Netflix on her phone, as there isn’t much to do sitting in a hospital bed and having a movie on in the background of her pain gives her something else to focus on.

By the time Dr. Jones comes in at the end of the four hours her contractions are at ten minutes apart, and she’s curled on her side squeezing Ralph’s hand and using his lap as a pillow, since Cisco got roped into the Flash business and then when he did finally return with one of her pillows it was the most uncomfortable one she owns.

“How are we doing?” Dr. Jones asks, and it takes every ounce of self-control she has in her to keep from snapping something sarcastic at the woman.

“Contractions are ten minutes apart now.” Ralph answers for her, and as this one continues to rock through her she presses her head harder against his thigh, whimpering a bit.

She can feel Dr. Jones’ sympathetic frown, as well as hear her rolling up her stool.

“Hopefully she’s dilated another centimeter if that’s the case. Crystal, when you feel you can, I need you to sit up ok?”

She nods, finding the fabric of Ralph’s jeans damp against her cheek from her tears.

When the contraction finally eases into relief she lets out a long breath, and then after a few seconds of just lying there she sets about untangling herself from Ralph. He helps her into a sitting position, letting her keep a grip on his arm the whole way up.

“Ok.” She says once she’s settled, and so Dr. Jones pushes up the end of her gown and starts her exam.

Ralph averts his eyes immediately, inspecting the ceiling in a way that has her smirking. It isn’t like she _wants _him to see this much of her - especially not under the circumstances of a doctor poking around down there - but still, his obviousness of adverting his eyes is funny.

“Ok…” Dr. Jones trails, looking up with a grin. “You are five centimeters dilated.”

Her mouth gapes open.

She had been hoping - and a part of her even thought - she might have made it to four. But five? She almost asks Dr. Jones if she’s sure, but she is already pushing her stool away and pulling off her gloves.

“I’m going to go sign you in under labor and delivery. I’ll be back soon, we’re going to move you to a new room, and once we’re in there we’ll get you started on an epidural. If you still want it.”

She nods, vigorously, and the doctor chuckles.

“Ok, I’ll be right back.”

“Ok, thank you.” Her voice is still strained as she calls after her, and when the door is closed she can’t tear her eyes away from it, her lips still parted with shock. She is only snapped out of it when Ralph nudges her lightly in the ribs, and when she turns he is smiling the biggest grin she has ever seen.

“Aright!” He cheers, “Ten minutes apart and five centimeters, baby Snow is coming!”

She wants to roll her eyes and tell him that this means next to nothing. It took her four hours to shave three minutes off her contractions, and she still has another five centimeters to go before she can start pushing. But instead his infectious smile spreads to her, and she laughs.

“Yeah.” She chuckles, taking another long breath and running a hand up through the hair that has fallen out of her already horrendous bun.

The door opens just then, but it isn’t a doctor or a nurse that comes in. Instead it’s Carla and Cisco, the specific pillow she asked for under Cisco’s arm and a convenience store bag on Carla’s.

“Got the pillow.” Cisco announces, tossing it over to her.

“We also got your car.” Carla informs her, “We figured just in case they decide to admit you-”

“They did.” She interrupts, too excited about it to let her mom finish.

“What?” Cisco asks, his eyes wide.

“Yeah.” She beams, “She just came in and checked me, I’m five centimeters dilated so they’re gonna move me to labor and delivery and give me an epidural.”

AT first the two of them stand there, stock still, and then Cisco reacts.

“Oh thank god!” He sighs, his whole body deflating in relief. “I don’t think I could handle driving you here with contractions a second time.”

* * *

As soon as they get her into labor and delivery Dr. Jones is waiting in the room with the epidural all prepped and ready to go. Frost, for all her eagerness thus far to get it, suddenly hesitates when she sees the size of the needle. Despite all the pain she’s been in – or maybe because of it – Ralph can’t stop himself from finding the sight of her frozen in place with eyes locked on the needle funny.

The doctor has her sit upright on the side of the bed and then moves to stand behind her, instructing her to lean forward a little. Her mom is in here, Cisco too, but she looks to him.

He steps forward without a word, standing in front of her and with her up on the bed they are almost eye level.

“Can I hold onto you?” She asks quietly, and he nods.

“Of course.”

He steps a little closer, standing between her knees, and his hands fall to the side of her legs while her hands grab on his shoulders and pull him close enough so she can lean her head there. She squeezes on his shoulders when the doctor administers the epidural, whimpering into the crook of his neck as the medicine is injected.

“It’s alright, I got you.” He whispers to her, rubbing her thigh; her grip tightens on him and she squeaks in response.

When the epidural is done she’s able to sit back, and as the minutes tick by it becomes clear that it’s worked. She says she still feels a dull ache with the contractions as they come, but not anything near the severity of what she was feeling before. That’s a relief, and so after another half hour and with the contractions still coming at ten minutes apart he stands up from his chair and stretches, then looks over at her.

“I’m gonna run home and grab my shirt, if that’s ok?”

She snorts, “You’re seriously gonna wear that thing here?”

“Of course.” He smirks, “It has to be the first thing the kid sees me in.”

She rolls her eyes, smiling, and he’ll take that to mean it’s ok if he goes.

“Anyone need anything while I’m gone?” He asks as he slips on his coat, and it’s Cisco who cranes his neck over the back of his chair.

“Bring a deck of cards or something.” He requests, “This is getting boring.” He then looks over at Frost. “No offence.”

“None taken.” She replies with a shrug.

“Got it.” He says, turning and opening the door before calling one last thing over his shoulder. “Don’t have the baby while I’m gone.”

“No promises.”

He smirks, and he’s still kind of grinning to himself as he walks through the hospital. He can’t help it. It seems like it was so long ago that Frost first told him about the baby, staring down a banana and no real idea what she wanted to do. He’d been every bit excited as he had been worried. Frost hadn’t lived much in the way of her own life at that point, and this certainly thrust her into it without any punches pulled. She’s come so far, done so good for herself, and now they’re finally here counting down the hours until the baby comes.

He thinks he has a right to be grinning like a lunatic to himself.

But, the universe has other plans, apparently, because the grin is wiped from his face when he rounds the corner into the floor’s waiting area and he sees none other than Mick Rory seated in a chair in the corner.

“Mick?”

The man in question looks up, almost doing a double take. But then once he’s realized that it is, in fact, Ralph he stands up with a near worried look on his face.

“How long have you been here?” Ralph asks, walking over to Mick.

“Fifteen minutes or something, took the jump ship.” He answers, “What’s going on?”

“They gave her an epidural about a half hour ago, her pain was really bad before that.”

Mick grunts, one that is drawn out, like he’s thinking.

“She’s doing better now?”

“Yeah.” Ralph nods, “I’m just running back to my place to grab something. Her room is down there and around two corners, 678.”

Mick nods, his eyes wide and almost panicked, and then he turns right around and takes a step in the opposite direction.

“Mick?” Ralph asks, hurrying to get around in front of the retreating man. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t tell her I was here.”

“What?”

Mick, to his credit, doesn’t try and push through him like Ralph is more than half expecting him too. Instead he goes stiff, and meets Ralph’s eyes.

“I told her, I can’t make any promises ‘bout being around, and I sure as hell ain’t cut out to be a dad.”

Ralph can’t help but to roll his eyes, backing off by an inch and mumbling his next words more to himself than to Mick. “Not this again.”

“Stretch-”

“Just shut up Mick.” He orders, calmly, crossing his arms and trying to find the strength somewhere inside him to not wring Mick’s neck right here in the middle of the waiting room.

“Just shut up. I am not asking you to go in there cut out to be a dad, I’m not even asking you to go in there. You’re the one who came here.”

“I told you I care about her.”

“Then go in.” He encourages, gesturing behind them to the hall he’d come from. “You don’t have to know how to do every little thing. All you need is to be willing to try and figure some things out.”

Mick doesn’t respond to that, not immediately anyway, and frankly Ralph isn’t expecting him to say anything at all. He is more expecting him to move, one way or the other.

But, instead, Mick meets his eyes.

“What kind of things?”

There are a lot of things he could say to that.

“Mick, I have been holding her hand through contractions for four hours. I held her through the doctor sticking the biggest needle I have ever seen into her back. I put together the baby’s crib, and I have done everything I can to cheer her up every time she starts to freak out about being a mom. I don’t know how to be a parent! But she’s my best friend, so I am more than happy to be the one to do those things.”

He pauses, giving Mick a chance to argue any of that, something he doesn’t take.

Good.

“But it doesn’t have to be me.”

Mick continues to look at him and say nothing, and frankly Ralph doesn’t even know if he’s been listening.

Then, finally, Mick moves.

And not in the way of the rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I haven't officially decided yet if there are one or two chapters left of this story. This was supposed to be the second-to-last chapter but then it got longer than anticipated and I'm not sure how much that will impact the next one so BE PREPARED! Either way, we are nearing the end of this journey!


	35. Welcome

“It’s what you’re doing right now.”

“Having a baby.” Frost answers, but surprisingly Cisco sighs with disappointment, and so Carla jumps in.

“Right now, right at this second.”

“Playing heads up?”

“No.” Cisco says, “Yes, you’re having a baby. What part of that are you doing right now?”

“Labor?”

“And what do you do while in labor?” Carla prompts, and she wracks her brain for the answer to that.

“Contractions?”

Cisco starts to groan, so that is obviously the wrong answer, but his groan is interrupted by a light knock on the door before it creaks open.

She almost drops her phone from her head.

She hadn’t expected Mick would come, not right away at least. She hadn’t even been sure he would get the message before the baby came. Yet here he is, taking an awkward half step into the room with a light blue gift bag clutched tightly in his fingers.

Cisco and Carla both turn in their chairs, and suddenly it hits her like a truck that Carla has no idea who Mick is. That being said she isn’t stupid, and it’s obvious she can tell the tension in the room has just skyrocketed.

Slowly Frost brings her phone down, catching a glimpse of the word _waiting _lit up on the screen before she turns it face down on the side table, her eyes moving from Mick to Cisco.

Thankfully, he gets the message.

“Why don’t we go check out what the hospital cafeteria has for lunch Mrs. T?”

Carla watches him with surprise as he gets up from his chair, and she looks back to Frost but before she can give any type of acknowledgment to that she turns back to Cisco, and follows his lead.

The two of them go, awkwardly stepping past Mick in the doorway and once they’re gone and it’s just her and Mick alone Frost finds that she can’t look anywhere besides at him.

He, on the other hand, has to opposite problem.

His eyes linger on the door, then sweep the entire room and take in the sight of every piece of hospital furniture and equipment before settling on her.

“I uh…” He finally says, holding up the bag, and of course his eyes fall to that too. “I brought ya something. Stopped at the gift shop.”

She nods, and he keeps looking around the room, rocking from his heels to his toes.

“I’d come get it but they numbed me from the waist down, can’t walk that great until it wears off.”

“Right.” He mutters, shaking himself out of whatever odd trance he’s in. He comes over to the bed and hands her the bag, and so she figures she may as well open it.

She pulls out the half crumpled white tissue paper and snorts when she pulls up the onesie nestled inside, white with an image of a blue baby bottle on the chest and the words _Drinking Buddy_ scrawled on it in black cursive.

“Cute.” She remarks, “Thanks.”

She puts the onesie back in the bag and it joins her phone on the bedside table, and Mick huffs while he knocks his hands anxiously together.

“So uh… How you holding up?”

“I’m alright.” She shrugs, “Epidural took away most of the pain, right now I’m just waiting.”

He nods, and looks away. She gives him a minute, but the quiet stretches on, and soon she can’t take it anymore.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

He keeps his face stoic, unreadable, until he meets her eyes and he looks so sorry.

“Neither was I.” He admits, “But I said I’d try.”

She smiles, he did say that.

“Well…” She drawls, “If you want to try, you mind pulling up one of those chairs and helping me narrow down a name?”

His eyes widen, and then he nearly trips over himself getting the chair. She can’t keep herself from snickering at the sight of him fumbling, and when he’s finally got the chair he still looks manic.

“Ok.” He says, “What’cha got?”

* * *

“So the father of my grandson is a career criminal?”

“Technically he’s a former career criminal.” Cisco corrects, taking another spoonful of his strawberry Jell-O. “Now he’s a time traveling… sort-of hero. And technically, your grandson’s mother is also a former career criminal.”

Mrs. Taunhauser rolls her eyes at that, and starts picking at her Jell-O once again.

“Do you think she’ll take him back?”

Cisco thinks about that a minute, swirling the Jell-O around in his mouth until it melts away.

“I don’t know.” He says, and really, he knows next to nothing about Frost and Mick’s current relationship, or any past one for that matter. Ralph would know more. All he knows for sure is she spent close to an hour in the med-bay with him after the mission to stop the H’San Natall, and after that she seemed more at ease.

“I don’t know if either of them wants that.”

Mrs. T scoffs, her eyes narrowed down on her little plastic cup. “I think they’re a little past ‘wants that’, don’t you?”

“They were a one night stand that ended up with a kid, how are they supposed to know what they want?”

“Well they’ve had nine months to figure it out.”

He wants to snap a defense to that but… well, she sort of has a point.

“Frost had a lot of other things to figure out in those nine months.” He ends up saying, “And Mick… I haven’t kept tabs on him since he was one of our rouges, so from what I understand he’s had some figuring out to do too.”

Mrs. T hums, scraping at the last chunks of her dessert. “You think he has a right to show up now?”

He shrugs, “I think if Frost didn’t want him here she would’ve kicked him out soon as he showed up.”

She doesn’t disagree with that, in fact it looks to him like she is considering, then she finishes off the last bite of her Jell-O and plops the little plastic spoon inside of the cup, tipping it over.

“True.” She admits, “She is very practical, from what I’ve seen.”

He hums, nodding in agreement as he places down his own spoon.

“Caitlin is practical too.” She says, and that statement shouldn’t seem like a total jump in topic considering they’re talking about Frost, yet Cisco can’t help but wonder where she is going with this.

“Yeah?” He says, and he doesn’t give her anything more.

She nods, “It makes me wonder, if once they’re separated she might do something impractical. What with having been more or less asleep for all these months.”

“Impractical like what?” Cisco asks, his brows knitting together. Caitlin isn’t exactly the type to go bungee jumping as a means of celebration, and even with how uninvolved she’s been for most of Caitlin’s adult life Cisco had assumed Carla knew that much.

“I don’t know.” She shrugs, feigning innocence. “But with Crystal having a baby and doing… whatever she is doing with Mick, maybe Caitlin will decide it’s time she took a chance.”

Oh. Oh _God._

If he had something to choke on he would, but instead all that happens is his throat goes dry and his brain short circuits.

“So what?” He eventually manages, “You think Caitlin should get her life back and go to speed dating?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She says with a snort, “I think Caitlin has had months to do nothing but think about her life, and I’m wondering if she’s realized there are some… opportunities, in front of her that she would be smart to act on.”

He… He can almost feel the sparks of disconnecting wires in his brain.

Mrs. T, apparently she’s satisfied with herself and isn’t going to allow him a chance to ask any questions. She stands up and collects their trash, walking away and disposing of it in the bin by the door before she leaves the cafeteria altogether.

* * *

Frost has lost almost all sense of time by now.

She knows it’s late, but Ralph promised he would tell her if they passed midnight and so far he hasn’t said anything about it.

However, it is a distinct possibility he is simply choosing to keep his mouth closed.

She whimpers as she sags back against the bed. Supposedly the epidural is still in effect but she would swear it’s wearing off.

“You’re doing great, Chris.” Mick hums into her ear, and she isn’t sure when he gave her that nickname but it is about the last thing on her mind right now.

“Fuck you, you won’t look.” She whines, he cannot tell her how “great” she’s doing when he has no fucking idea.

She’s been pushing for awhile now, him on her right side and Ralph on her left wearing his _#1 Uncle _t-shirt, her mom down by her legs with Dr. Jones and promising to let her know when they can see a head.

So far, nothing.

“Uh… You want me to look?”

She scowls and rolls her eyes.

“No, I want you to quit lying to me.”

Whether he is planning to answer that or not she has no idea, but he doesn’t get the chance. Her next contraction hits her and she squeezes down hard on his hand, gritting her teeth and gasping every few seconds until she runs out of air and has no choice but to stop.

“Crystal, honey, remember to breathe.” Her mom says, or so helpfully, as she collapses back against the stiff back of the bed.

“I’m trying…” She groans, breathing in deep through her nose, half for emphasis and half because she really needs to.

This goes on, and on, and on; until the pain is far past the point of unbearable, tears are streaming down her cheeks freely, and she is putting so much strain on Mick and Ralph’s hands she is actually starting to lift herself from the bed.

“It won’t be long now Crystal, we can see the head.” Dr. Jones encourages, or she thinks she’s trying to be encouraging anyway.

She sniffles and frees her hand from Ralph long enough to wipe her eyes, and then quickly puts it back just in time to push again. She bears down hard, once again pushing herself up a bit with the efforts, but it might as well do nothing. A sob escapes her mouth when the contraction ends and she collapses back because even with the remaining effects of the epidural it still hurts so damn much. She can feel the intense pressure building between her legs, threatening to rip her apart from the inside out.

“I can’t do this…” She whimpers, and the instant the words are out of her mouth Ralph is bent down to her level.

“Hey, hey. Yes you can.”

She shakes her head, not once picking it up from the bed.

“I can’t.”

“You can.” He swears, covering her hand with both of his. “You got this.”

She sniffles, she wants to argue, but another wave of hell surges through her and she ends up forcing her body back up, tucking her chin to her chest and bearing down and this time she nearly falls back when it’s over.

“I can’t.” She just barely breathes out, “I can’t… I can’t even stay up.”

Ralph - instead of telling her again that she can indeed survive this - straightens himself upright and looks over her head at Mick.

“Get behind her.” He orders, and frankly she is too tired to attempt processing Mick’s confused expression.

“Get behind her!” Ralph repeats himself, “Sit behind her so she can push against you and-”

Ralph doesn’t get to finish, as Mick is already moving. She whimpers as Ralph tugs on her arm to urge her up into something closer to a sitting position, and unfortunately the next contraction hits her while they’re still sorting themselves out.

“Ok, ok.” He whispers to her, holding her up as the fingers of the hand she’d been holding to Mick with digs into his bicep. “It’s ok, I’ve got you. Just push.”

She doesn’t make a sound in response, not until the contraction is over and at that point she is too preoccupied with catching her breath to even worry about the tears streaming down her cheeks.

He settles her back, but this time instead of the rough hospital bed she has Mick’s broad form behind her and on instinct both her hands interlock with his.

“Ok.” Ralph says, bending down to her level. “That better?”

“Yeah.” She replies her voice shaky, and he nods.

When the next contraction comes it comes hard. She leans forward, this time dragging Mick with her and thus finally giving her something to drive her body into when it really counts.

“Come on.” She hears Ralph, her mother, and Dr. Jones all repeating. “Push, push.”

Thank God she doesn’t have her powers right now, as she is fairly certain she Mick’s hands would be incased in ice if she did.

She nearly screams with the end of the contraction, the pressure between her legs now a fiery hell she hadn’t known was possible. She bears down again less than five seconds later, the air that is supposed to be flowing from her lungs instead staying there and building, not her primary concern at the moment. She’ll breathe if she has too, but right now she would rather put that energy somewhere else. Mick is telling her to breathe, though, and maybe it’s because she knows he’s right she forces herself to allow one sharp intake before bearing down harder. She vaguely registers that her mom is actually cheering, and Ralph’s words are suddenly breathless, speeding up. He’s talking about she is so close and the baby’s coming, and Mick is still telling her to breathe because this is not when she wants to pass out, and…

And then the pressure is gone.

She collapses back against Mick in relief, with a sudden warm and wet weight on her chest that her hands move to secure before her mind has even fully processed what’s happening. She is vaguely aware of the doctor’s hand on top of the baby; rubbing somewhere along his back for a fraction of a second before he gives a little cough that is followed by a piercing cry.

She laughs, her brain catching up and her eyes blinking away tears as she takes in the sight of the pruney, blood and slime-covered baby squirming under her hands, shouting his protest to his sudden change in scenery.

“Oh hi…” She coos, smiling wider than she thinks she ever has, pulling him closer. “Hi Aaron.”

“Aaron?” Ralph asks, smiling down at her, and damn it she hadn’t meant to let the name slip just yet.

Oh well.

“Yeah.” She says, her eyes going back to her son. “Aaron Leonard Snow.”

As Aaron starts to calm down the cord is cut, which Carla winds up doing, although frankly Frost is barely paying attention to that end of things. She is far too entranced by the sight of her baby sprawled on her chest, and holy crap he is actually here. She runs her fingers up and down his back, taking note of a slight bump at the base of his spine, and suddenly she remembers they aren’t out of the wood here yet.

He’ll be fine; she tries to remember. Dr. Jones had said that so long as he comes out healthy they can wait a few hours before bringing him to surgery, therefor learning if he’s healthy is the only reason she hands him over so willingly when the nurse offers to take him to be cleaned up.

That being said, she still looks up at Ralph with pleading eyes.

“You want me to go with him?” He chuckles, pointing with his thumb to where the nurse is headed; the other side of the fairly small room.

“Please?’

Still smirking Ralph follows the nurse without another word, happy to keep a watchful eye on Aaron.

With that putting her mind at ease she is able to relax, and she notices Mick looking down at her with a reverence in his eyes.

“What?” She asks, still grinning widely.

He hums, tightens his hold on her a hair and presses a light kiss to her temple before meeting her eyes again.

“You did good Chris.” He tells her, and if possible she beams wider.

“Thanks” She says, “For everything.”

“I didn’t do much.” He scoffs, and she hums as she settles more contently into his chest, her eyes locked ahead on the sight of the nurses washing all the excess goop from Aaron.

“You gave me him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried spelling Mick's nickname for her of "Chris" as "Crys" but that reads like "cries" so yeah. Anyway, one chapter to go!


	36. Three Degrees of Separation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I have no self control. There will be ONE MORE chapter. I think I could have ended it here, as this chapter was originally supposed to be an epilogue. But I think instead it feels more like an "ending" ending, so this is the "end" and the final chapter will be a more flushed out epilogue than what I was going to have. So I think everybody wins here except for my spare time. Oh well.

“Oh thank God!” Cisco exclaims, his head tipped back with relief and Frost can’t help but to chuckle.

It’s nearly four in the morning – Ralph absolutely did not tell her when they passed midnight – and after the chaos of the birth came to a calm and a nurse helped her figure out how to feed Aaron, she gave Ralph the ok to go get Cisco, Barry, and Iris.

She’s just told them the name of their newest family member, and Cisco very clearly approves.

“I’m sorry, did someone have a bet going?” Iris asks, taking her eyes off Aaron for the first time since she got ahold of him.

“No.” Frost says, smirking. “He’s just happy I didn’t name him Jamieson.”

“Jamieson?” Barry asks, raising an eyebrow at Cisco.

Iris, on the other hand, looks over her shoulder at her distracted husband.

“Huh. That’s not a bad name.”

“Oh no!” Cisco exclaims, and Frost and Iris both hiss a shushing noise at him, so his next words come out in a dramatic whisper. “Do not get any ideas about saving that name!”

“What’s wrong with Jamison?” Barry asks, and Cisco rolls his eyes.

“You don’t name a kid after whiskey!”

“It-”

“Guys.” Frost cuts Barry off, “Can we please not fight about a name literally nobody in this room has?”

“Sorry.” The two of them murmur in unison, and soon Barry starts looking over his wife’s shoulder and a smile takes over his face.

He looks up at her after only a second, still smiling wide. “He looks so much like you Frost.”

She beams, even if she’s pretty sure he’s bullshitting her.

She doesn’t see too many distinct features in him right now. His skin is still flushed red and ok; Mick kind of has a naturally reddish tone, so she wonders if this is his complexion or if it will lighten to be pale like her. His nose is too little to really determine if he gets it from her or Mick, and frankly she doesn’t think either of them has such distinct a nose to ever know that for sure. His eyes are a light blue-green, like Mick’s, and maybe that will fade into brown but maybe it won’t.

“I’m pretty sure that’s just his hair.” She says, as he definitely does get that from her. He has these thin little wisps of silver hair, so light they’re almost invisible.

“No.” Iris disagrees, looking first up at her and then back down at Aaron. “There’s something about his face, it looks a lot like yours.”

She grins, doesn’t let herself argue, and that’s when the door opens and Mick comes walking back in with a cup of fruit and a plastic fork held out to her as he approaches the bed.

“Thanks.” She says, trying not to full-out lunge at the fruit. She hasn’t eaten since yesterday, _early _yesterday.

Mick hums, and looks around at everyone gathered in the room before he ultimately chooses to ignore them.

“I uh… I talked to Trench Coat, ‘bout splitting you from Snow.”

She nods, holding the fork between her lips as she waits for him to finish.

He bristles, and his body sways a little awkwardly. He may be only paying attention to her, and her him, but they are both fully aware of everyone else listening so intently to this conversation.

They all want Caity back, and they all want to know when exactly that is going to happen.

“He said you’re best off waiting a day.” He explains, “Something ‘bout recovering. Says you probably _can _handle having a baby and splitting from someone in the same day, but you shouldn’t.”

She nods, and a part of her thinks that if she can handle it than she he is wrong and she should. So what if it makes recovering from birth harder? Caity has been under long enough.

But, another part of her – as well as Caity’s voice – is insistent that they’ve waited this long, they can wait one more day.

She looks over to Carla, who is sitting in the chair in the corner.

“Is that ok?” She asks, and her mother nods.

“Of course it is.” She insists, “I want both you and Caitlin healthy.”

She smirks, and right in that moment Aaron starts fussing in Iris’s arms.

* * *

Turns out, waiting a day to separate isn’t nearly as hard as she’d thought it would be. It might be harder if she weren’t so fucking tired, but that is not the case.

Aaron goes into surgery at seven in the morning, and the nurse tells her at least three times that it is going to take four hours and she should sleep while there is such a long block of time in which she won’t be able to see him.

At first she is convinced she’s too worried to sleep, but eventually she drifts off, and when she wakes up she realizes she has been in a very deep and much needed sleep.

Ralph is there when she wakes up, sitting in the plastic chair and sliding his phone into his back pocket.

“Hey,” he greets her as her eyes blink open.

“Hey.” She says, sitting up and stretching, looking around but there is no sign of the rolling bassinet they’d had Aaron in. “Is Aaron-?”

“He’s fine.” Ralph promises her, “The surgery went fine, he’s in the NICU sleeping off the anesthesia and then they’ll go from there. Your mom is with him.”

She nods, looking around the room as if to confirm it’s just the two of them.

“I can’t believe he’s here.” She says, more to herself than to Ralph, but she can feel him smiling at her all the same

“I know.”

She smiles, looking back over to him. “Thank you.” She says, “I don’t think I could’ve gotten this far without you.”

“You would’ve figured it out.” He insists with a shrug, “Just might have been a little messier.”

She smirks; figuring messier is very likely an understatement. “Well regardless, I’m glad you’ve been here, both for me and for Aaron.”

“Of course.”

She smiles at him before she looks away and starts to fiddle the fingers of one hand with the hospital bracelet around her opposite wrist. She doesn’t have any idea why she is even remotely nervous about this, it isn’t like she’s worried he’ll say no. Old habits, she supposes.

“So, I’m not exactly the most religious person, but I was thinking… I’d like for you to be Aaron’s godfather.”

Ralph’s face turns to stunned and she almost laughs. A minute passes, then two, and still his jaw is hanging open and he hasn’t blinked and so finally she gives into the urge to laugh.

“Is that a yes?”

That, finally, seems to spur him.

“Yeah, yes. Of course. I’d be honored.”

“Great,” She says, “Caity’s going to be the godmother. I’m not gonna start going to church or have him baptized or anything formal, but I still want him to know he has you guys.”

Ralph nods, still beaming. “He’ll always have us.”

Now it’s her turn to nod, her own smile still wide, because she know he’s right.

* * *

She gets discharged the next day, and even though Aaron is recovering perfectly fine the doctors still want to keep him one more night for observation. It makes sense, and on a logical standpoint she is grateful for it and understands that this day could be used as an extra day to rest and prepare any last minute things before she brings him home. However, her – admittedly still hormonal - brain doesn’t want to go home for even two minutes without him.

She can technically stay with him, sitting in a chair by his bassinet in the NICU, and that is exactly what she intends to do.

She’s been here for only two hours at this point, when the doors open and so she looks up expecting to see another doctor or parent concerned over their baby, and even though the newcomer does technically fit that second description she is still surprised when it’s Mick who meets her gaze.

It isn’t like he hasn’t come in here to see Aaron before. He has, he even brought Ray, Sara, and Jax one by one to see him because despite everything he says he does care what those three think of him. No matter how involved or uninvolved he ends up being in Aaron’s life Frost knows he proud, and he wants at least for those three members of his family to see that pride.

Plus secretly, she thinks he trusts them to hold him accountable for being too uninvolved.

He comes over to her, looks at Aaron first who is sleeping soundly, and then at her.

“How long’s he been asleep?”

She shrugs, “Since before I got here. He should wake up soon, he’ll be hungry.”

Mick nods, a low rumbling sound coming from his throat. He avoids her eyes then, one hand moving to scratch his chin.

“After you do that… You up for coming to the ship?” He asks, “Trench Coat can get Snow out of your head, you can take a real shower. After that you can do whatever…”

There’s… She thinks there might be some sort of invitation in there, in _whatever_, and she has no idea how she is supposed to feel about that and she would very much like to avoid it, because she has bigger things to think about right now than whatever the hell the two of them are, but…

But she nods.

“Yeah.” She says, “Meet you there in, say, an hour?”

He nods, and then with one last smile for Aaron he leaves her there.

She keeps her eyes on the doors long after he’s gone.

* * *

It turns out to be a little over an hour before she’s able to make it to the Waverider – Aaron was being fussy, and then there’s the general not moving so quickly right after having a baby. Even so, it’s only mid-afternoon when she’s on the bridge of the ship and watching as Constantine draws a pentagram of greasepaint on the floor.

“You know this isn’t an exorcism, right?” She comments, half kidding and half… not.

“Same basic principles.” Constantine shrugs, still painting out the symbols in the center. “A few switched words and ingredients, but we’re still removing an extra soul from your body.”

“And,” Gideon chimes in from above, and Frosts jumps a little. She’s not sure she will ever get used to hearing that voice without the holographic head accompanying it, in one designated room. “I trust you are using paint that will wash out of my floors, correct?”

“Aye, Love.” Constantine confirms, pausing long enough to smirk up at the ceiling.

Frost wants to ask more questions, but at the same time she gets the feeling that asking more questions when it comes to John Constantine is something people tend to regret doing. So she keeps quiet, hanging back leaned against the flight seat Cisco has taken up residence in. Her mom is in the seat next to him, and the only other Legend on the bridge aside from the ever-present Gideon is Gary; pulling the most random assortment of odds and ends out of a bag and asking Constantine which ones he needs.

She sucks in a breath, not that Cisco notices. His eyes are transfixed on Constantine and Gary, and his ears only interested in what they are saying.

“Hey.” She says, placing a light hand on his shoulder but he still jumps in his seat, whirling his head up to look at her. “This’ll work.”

* * *

Caitlin is aware that she will be back in the real world soon.

Frost putting the meta-cuffs on had been like a switch turning her off. She went to sleep. Completely, and totally to sleep. When she woke up it wasn’t totally awake, she was exactly where she has been for the past seven months; in her and Frost’s shared mind space. In the time since walking up she’s heard and felt snippets of things, as has been her life since going under. She heard Mick telling Frost it would be best to wait a day before separating, and while they both agreed waiting is best Caitlin can’t help but to somewhere in her mind count the seconds.

She doesn’t know exactly what is happening outside right now, but she can feel this mix of excitement and apprehension surrounding her like an aura, so maybe it’s almost time.

Or, maybe it is time.

She hears… Something. An echo of sound from the outside world. Latin. She can’t fit any of the words together but she knows the tongue. Soon it feels like her skin is buzzing. Every cell in her body feels like it’s made of jelly, jelly that all of a sudden has been lit on fire and her head is cloudy. She squeezes her eyes tight, and there is no sound or sight of anything crumbling but it _feels _that way. Like the world should be falling apart at the seams around her, and maybe it is. She can’t see anything, can’t hear anything, all she can do is feel and she isn’t even sure if she’s doing that right.

Then, suddenly, it all goes away.

Nothing is muddled anymore. The air around her is real, sharp air; not the dreamlike atmosphere she’s grown used to. The ground beneath her feet is solid, separated from her by her shoes.

She opens her eyes, blinking. She is still wearing the same blouse and jeans she’s been seeing herself in for months now. Her hands are pressed against her thighs and she can feel rough texture of denim. The air is moving in and out of her lungs as she straightens up and when she does she sees Frost, only inches from her, and the surroundings behind her every bit as detailed as she is herself.

She’s back.

She isn’t sure which of them moves first, all she knows is that one moment she is staring in shock at Frost and the next their arms are wrapped around one another in a tight hug.

They rock a little off balance but catch that quickly enough, and there is the sound of one of them crying but Caitlin isn’t sure which – maybe it’s both of them.

“Th-Thank you.” Frost shutters, her voice wet, and it is definitely both of them because Caitlin feels the tears sliding down her cheeks as she tangles her fingers in Frost’s hair.

“You’re welcome.” She says, and they stay like they are for a minute. But, eventually, they have to push apart and when they do they take in the sight of one another.

The most obvious difference between them – as expected – is that Frost just had a baby and her body is still showing the after effects of pregnancy. Her belly is still swollen while Caitlin looks just as she had the day she went under. Their hair is another difference, otherwise they look identical, and Caitlin is so happy she can finally see this in the real world.

She turns to look over her shoulder, see who else is here, and what she is met with is Cisco already on his feet and running for her the moment her eyes land on him. She laughs, catches a glimpse of her mother standing back by a chair smirking, and then all she can see is the dark blur of Cisco’s hair and her arms are securing tight around his shoulders as he lifts her up and spins her around; happily exclaiming how much he’s missed her.

* * *

While Caity catches up with everyone on the ship Frost takes Mick up on his offer to take a real shower. It is _far _better than the shower she took at the hospital, but then again that was the first shower she took after pushing another human out of her so she supposes the bar isn’t high.

All the same she has to force herself to turn off the warm water and get out. She squeezes her hair dry as she can manage with her borrowed towel and then puts it up, kicking herself for not thinking to bring a hairbrush. She changes back into her clothes and visits Ray in his lab where he has the antidote for the power blockers Cisco gave her all ready to go. She doesn’t have to wonder this time if it’s worked, she can feel her healing factor kicking back up and the soreness she’s been feeling every time she so much as moves her legs starting to dull, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

It’s going to be time to leave soon, if not now, but instead of the bridge or the loading bay she lets her feet take her to Mick’s room. The door is closed as usual, so she wrapped her knuckles light against it and then folds her arms across her chest as she paces a circle.

It isn’t long before the doors slide open, Mick standing there and watching her intently. She stops pacing, meets his eyes.

“I’m gonna get going.”

The most reaction he gives is a slight incline of his head. She’s going to go, he’s going to stay; so here they are.

She takes a step forward, not into the room but still very much in his space. They’re only a handful of inches apart. She has to distract herself with the sight of her shoes scuffing the floor to remember that while it would be all too easy to go in there and just waste the rest of the afternoon together, it would also be all too difficult.

“I’ll uh… I’ll keep in touch?”

It’s supposed to be a promise, but it leaves her lips more as a question. She needs to know if he even wants that, or if he would rather they just see each other when they see each other.

He hums his approval.

“Me too, if that’s ok?”

She smiles, a relieved little chuckle coming through her teeth. “I’d like that.”

He hums, and then they’re just standing there, awkwardly looking at each other and fully aware of the empty hallway around them. Finally she knows they have to break this, so she reaches forward and gently cups his face with one hand and gets up on her toes to press a light kiss to his cheek.

He looks confused when she backs down, confused but not unhappy, and that, she supposes, is exactly where they are for now.


	37. The Learning Curve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE LAST CHAPTER IS HERE!!!!!!
> 
> I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been leaving comments throughout the run of this story. You guys have truly made my days with your kind words and kept me inspired to write this and make it what it is! Thank you all so much!
> 
> So, without further ado, here's the last chapter!

Frost flinches as the corner of the car seat bumps against the open door of the car. Aaron is awake, and he doesn’t seem to notice the slight jostle. She knows it was barely a tap to the corner of the seat, but she still cringes and hopes the nurse watching won’t go in and tell her superiors the woman they just released is not fit to have custody of a baby – especially not one recovering from surgery.

She gets the car seat secured easily enough; she’s practiced enough times since getting it. Once she is sure the seat is in she climbs in herself and shuts the door while her mom talks with the nurse.

Caity slides into the passenger seat, even though this is her car she had opted to let mom drive; citing that she hasn’t driven in months and the trip hope from the hospital with a newborn might not be the best time to start.

“We might be waiting here a minute.” Caity says, “Mom tends to be thorough when it comes to medicine, no one other than her knows what they’re doing.”

She snorts, amused, and her eyes fall onto Aaron next to her. He’s calm, lying there with his pacifier securely in his mouth and his little eyes starting to close. She reaches into the car seat and stroke a finger gentle over his hairline. He gives a little wiggle, like he is trying to see what is touching him all of a sudden, and then he settles himself back in. She keeps looking at him, keeps stroking along the thin ends of his hair, watching as his glimmering eyes slowly blink closed. It’s still a long moment after that when the driver’s door finally opens and her mother slides in, and when she looks up she sees Caity has been watching her with a smirk this entire time, and not to mention her phone out likely having caught a picture.

“What?” She asks, through a blush and a giggle, because she knows exactly what.

She knows she isn’t normally a touchy-feely person, at one point it was even her defining - if not her only - trait as far as her friends and Caity were concerned.

“I’m just glad you’re happy.” Caity says, and with that she turns her attention forward once again while their mom smiles briefly over her shoulder.

Frost smiles too, mostly to herself, but her eyes are quick to return to Aaron.

* * *

“Ugh…”

It is three in the morning, night four with Aaron in the apartment, and already Frost is finding herself wondering how she ever deluded herself into thinking she could do this alone.

She knew coming into this there would be late night fits of tears, of course she did. However it turns out she made one fateful error: she assumed those tears would always coincide with late night feedings or diaper changes.

She’s tried both of those, she’s tried every pacifier in the room, she’s tried different pajamas, she’s tried rocking him, nothing’s working.

Then her door opens, and she swears she could cry herself.

“Frost…” Caity trails, her hair is sticking out in sections of its two messy braids, and her eyes are squinting in the dark. She looks so tired, and Frost knew this was a bad idea. She just knew it. She never should have let Caity let her live here.

“I’m trying.” She says, blinking away her tears and trying not to notice the way Caity stiffens.

She’s still rocking Aaron, and it still isn’t doing a bit of good.

“I’ve tried feeding him, I’ve changed his diaper, I’ve changed his pajamas, I’ve-”

“Ok, ok.” Caity hushes her, stepping forward and holding out her hands. “Do you want me to take him?”

She nods, sniffling up her own tears as she maneuvers Aaron into Caity’s waiting arms. Caity then sets about rocking him but just like when she was it does nothing.

“Why don’t you go in my room?” Caity suggests, “Take a minute.”

She nods; even if she would rather be able to just handle this herself she knows this is better. She’s never going to be able to calm Aaron down if she’s over the edge herself.

She can still hear the crying clear as day even with Caity’s door closed, but even so being in a separate room feels like she can breathe again. Sinking down onto the bed she shudders out a breath and wipes at her eyes, and after another breath she decides that is all she needs. She can go back in, so she gets to her feet, and suddenly the crying stops.

She holds her breath, rooted in her spot and waiting for it to start again, but it doesn’t. The silence stretches out for over a minute, and then finally after what feels like an eternity she hears another cry, but this one stops quickly, and a minute later the door creaks open with a nudge from Caity’s foot.

“There,” she coos, Aaron held close to her chest. “See? Mama’s right there.”

Taking the cue from Caity’s eyes she strides over to the door and takes her son, kissing his head as he settles against her own chest.

“How’d you get him to stop?” She asks, rocking slightly, fearing if she doesn’t this brief spell of quiet might come to an end.

“I didn’t.” Caity huffs with a shrug. “He hiccupped, and then he was done.”

She rolls her eyes. Of course it had been that simple.

“I tried to put him in his crib but he didn’t like that, then I think he realized I wasn’t you because he almost started crying again while I was taking him back out.”

She smirks, even if she doubts that at a week old Aaron has any idea who she is; much less can tell the difference between her and Caity in the dark. But hey, babies are supposedly smarter than they seem, so maybe.

“Well thank you, we’ll let you get some sleep now.”

“Thanks.” Caity laughs as she starts out of the room, “Night.”

“Night.”

Once back in her own room Frost kicks the door closed and looks down to Aaron, sucking his pacifier contentedly and looking oh-so-innocent.

“You are a piece of work, kid.”

* * *

Ralph forces her to take at least eight weeks off from the office, and ok, the first four of those aren’t really a force. Even with super healing recovering from birth is still no joke. She isn’t as sore as she thinks she would be without her powers, but she is still exhausted.

She feels like all she ever wants to do is sleep, and all the books and her mother tell her things will work best if she does that while the baby sleeps. However her baby is yet to develop any sense of a circadian rhythm and it turns out her body is only willing to abandon it’s own to a certain extent. For example she doesn’t have much problem with being woken up almost every hour of the night, but once she tries sleeping around four-thirty or five her body does not appreciate being woken again before seven, and it almost always is.

Caity helps her out as much as she can, doing most of their cooking and dishes. Frost helps with that where she can, and as the weeks go on it gets easier. Slowly but surely Aaron finds a routine in his sleeping, eating, and pooping; which is about all he does right now. Once he’s in a routine it feels like she can relax just a little for the first time since he was born.

By six weeks she feels she is starting to get a little stir crazy. Aaron is sleeping better at night (not great, but better) so she isn’t quite so tired. She has left her apartment in all this time, of course, but not for more than a trip to the store or something like that. She feels like she needs to actually do something at this point, and so with a smirk on her face she hatches an idea. She debates it only for a moment, and as soon as Aaron is finished eating she slips her shirt back into place, gets him dressed warm enough to go out, and she loads him into his car seat.

Caity’s been leaving her the car most days, getting a ride to S.T.A.R. Labs with Cisco and adamantly refusing to entertain any suggestive teasing about it.

“What do you think?” She asks Aaron as she secures his seat in the back. “How long until Auntie Cait and Uncle Cisco get together?”

Aaron’s only response to this is to look up at her with no clear expression on his face, and so she finishes getting him settled and then closes the door.

As she closes the door she drops her keys, and frustrating as it is she can’t help but to smirk to herself when bending down to get them is so, so much easier than it was six weeks ago.

As she drives through the city a part of her can’t help but to be nervous. Maybe this is a bad idea? It’s the middle of the day, so the risks should be low, but that isn’t to say there aren’t still going to be risks. Is bringing Aaron along completely irresponsible?

“No.” She says, shaking her head and trying to convince herself.

She knows she is going to do a lot of things wrong with this whole parenting thing, and while she has accepted that fact she is still terrified of making some kind of mistake she can’t come back from. That being said, she refuses to let that fear dictate every aspect of her life. She won’t miss things - and she won’t make Aaron miss things - just because she is afraid of what might happen.

She parks in a spot down the street and then with the handle of the car seat balance over her arm she walks down to Norvock’s bar. He’s only been open for an hour at this point, and when she walks in she is relieved to see the place is mostly empty, and those who are here aren’t anyone she needs to worry about.

Norvock is behind the bar, wiping down the counter, and she can’t help smirking when he sees her and his eye widens.

“That the kid?” He asks as she approaches the bar, snickering as she sets the car seat down on one of the many vacant stools.

“It’s not a doll.”

Norvock glowers at her before peering over the counter and looking under the canopy of the seat. Aaron is asleep by now, and even after six weeks the sight of his little eyes closed in peaceful sleep still tugs at her heart.

“Wow,” Norvock says, the simple word filled with a tone of wonder. “He’s a beaut.”

“Thanks.” She says with a smirk, and she sets herself on the next stool.

“You want anything?”

She thinks about that for a minute, doing the math from the last time Aaron ate to when he’ll be hungry next, as well as trying to remember what Dr. Jones told her about drinking and breastfeeding.

“I’ll take a beer.” She ends up saying, “But don’t judge me if I only drink half of it.”

He nods and not even a minute later he places down a bottle of her favorite beer in front of her with the top popped off.

“Here, on the house.” He says, “You earned this one.”

She smirks, and for the next half hour they talk about business with the bar, and then what she’s planning on doing in terms of hero work now that the baby is here. In truth, she hasn’t figured that out yet. So far The Flash and Elongated Man have been sufficient enough heroes for Central City, she hasn’t felt the need to step back into the Killer Frost suit even once since she hung it up.

“First things first,” she says, picking at the label of her bottle. “I gotta lose the baby weight before I can even think about squeezing my ass back into my leathers.”

She’s sitting, and they have a counter between them, but Norvock still looks her up and down before shrugging and returning to wiping the counter.

“You look good to me.”

She rolls her eyes, “Well thank you, but if I had to get into that suit today it would not happen.”

“Well good thing you don’t have to get into that suit today.” He teases, and she take a sip of her drink as she thinks some more about that suit.

“Maybe a year.” She says thoughtfully, and Norvock looks at her like he is waiting for her to decide that for certain.

She is too.

“I don’t know.” She says, “I guess we’ll see.”

* * *

Turns out “we’ll see”, is the only way by which she understands how to live her life, and it is a very effective policy to have as the single-mother of an infant. As weeks turn to months her routine is always changing, and every time she thinks she has something that works figured out Aaron goes and changes it on her. Sometimes it’s a good thing, like when he’s five months old and he slowly starts sleeping though the night. Other times it’s just downright annoying, like when the partially involved father she’s been sending updates to suddenly stops returning her calls.

“You’re sure the Waverider is ok, Gideon?” She asks, adjusting her hold on Aaron so that he is in his favorite position: in front of her and sitting on one arm whilst the other keeps a firm hold across his stomach.

“Yes, Crystal Snow.” Gideon answers, and she has really got to get Barry to figure out how to upgrade their AI so she’ll stop using full names.

One annoyance at a time.

“My link with the Waverider’s Gideon system is in tact, and she assures me that her entire crew, including Mick Rory, is still safe and well on board her ship.”

“Ok.” She says, trying not to let the dejection into her voice too much. “Thanks.”

She leaves the time vault then, her brain still wracking itself for what could have set Mick off so much he’d ignore her.

Since they went their separate ways after Aaron’s birth she’s sent him weekly updates on their son. These have been everything from pictures to summaries of doctor’s visits. Mick, in her opinion, has been receptive of it all. He even asked for pictures at one point when she hadn’t sent any. Almost every time she comes into the time vault there is a message waiting for her from Mick letting her know he got her last update and what he’s been up to. She didn’t get too worried three weeks ago when there was nothing, she figured he was busy and hadn’t had a chance yet to look at what she’d sent him. Then it went another week, and now she’s here.

Three weeks, and no word from Mick.

She presses a kiss to the top of Aaron’s head before they turn into the cortex, where Caitlin and Cisco are sitting nauseatingly close and going over some schematics of something whist simultaneously arguing over what movie they’re going to watch tonight.

“There is nothing wrong with watching _Back to the Future_ again!” Cisco defends just as she enters, and at his declaration Caity rolls her eyes.

“Hey,” Caity says to her, effectively ending her squabble with Cisco.

Speaking of Cisco, he looks up too and his face breaks out in a huge grin as his eyes land on Aaron.

Caity, on the other hand, is more focused on her.

“Anything from Mick?”

“No.” She huffs, approaching them and passing Aaron down to Cisco, who happily takes him. “If he’s going to drop out of his son’s life, the least he could do is tell me.”

She pulls up a chair and flops herself into it, while Caity looks at her with pity and Cisco makes silly faces at her son propped on his lap.

Well, at least she has that sight to make her smile.

“I’m sure he’s not dropping out of his life.” Caity says, her eyes lingering distractedly on Cisco and Aaron, and Frost would snort if she didn’t think doing so would start a fight.

“It’s been three weeks.” She says instead, and Caity frowns.

Before anything else can be said on the matter Ralph comes in.

“Hey guys.” He greets, lighting up when he sees Aaron sitting on Cisco’s lap. “Hi buddy!” He coos, leaning down and scooping the baby up from Cisco.

Frost smirks as she watches Ralph bounce with Aaron in his grasp, asking in a baby-voice how his “little buddy” is doing today and kissing his cheek.

“Oh Frost, Mick stopped by the office today looking for you.”

Her elbow nearly falls off the edge of the desk.

Ralph has said this like it’s nothing. He is still standing there, bouncing Aaron and grinning widely with every look he gives to the baby.

“What?” She demands, and when Ralph meets her eyes he suddenly looks far too casual.

“Yeah.” He shrugs, still bouncing. “I told him you were probably either here or at your apartment, but he said he had stuff to do and he’d just give you a call later.”

She is aware of everyone looking at her. Caity, Ralph, Cisco, even Aaron seems like he’s waiting to see what she’ll do with this information.

The answer? Run.

She bolts out of the cortex and down the hall, hearing Ralph calling after her but not listening. She runs all the way back to the time vault, and she very nearly smacks face first into the wall. But she remembers to let her hand land first, and so she stumbles inside, up to the podium, and she slams her hand onto the scanner.

“Good afternoon Crystal-”

“Gideon, I need you to call the Waverider.”

“I can assure you that your earlier message was-”

“Now, Gideon!”

The AI goes quiet; her holographic head disappears and is replaced by a static filled projection screen. There is a sound of ringing coming from the screen. First one, two, three, four-

Nate Heywood’s face appears on the screen.

“Hey Frost, what’s up?”

She folds her arms over her chest, trying very hard to not look like she just sprinted down a hallway to get here, and also maybe she is just a little irked.

“Is Mick there?”

“No?” Nate answers, looking at her like she has two heads. “Isn’t he with you guys? He left the ship like two or three weeks ago.”

For a long moment she is stunned silent.

“Are… Are you sure?” She finally manages to stutter. “I’ve been leaving him messages. Our Gideon keeps telling me he’s on the ship.”

Nate looks very, very confused by her claim, until suddenly a look of dawning realization over takes his face.

“Oh… You know what? Our Gideon knows how to lie.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” He says, “Why don’t you call Mick’s phone? I bet wherever he is he asked our Gideon to tell your Gideon he was still here.”

She doesn’t know what is more disturbing about this theory of Nate’s; the fact that it is perfectly logical to him that his ship’s AI unit might have lied to her, or the fact that he is so unconcerned upon learning that there may be no one who knows where Mick has been for the past three weeks.

Mick, of all people.

Nate gives her Mick’s actual number and she’s quick to punch it into her phone, pacing a small circle as she waits out the ringing.

“Hello?”

She nearly scowls at the sound of his voice.

“Hey.” She says, “What’s going on? I haven’t heard from you in three weeks and now neither have your teammates?”

He sighs on the other end, and she can just picture him rubbing at his forehead.

“Who told you?”

“Nate.” She answers, “After Ralph told me you stopped by our office looking for me. What is going on? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” He growls, quickly, firmly. “Everything’s fine. I was looking for you cause I’ve got something I want to run by you, but it’s a lot easier to show you than to explain. It’s um… Are you free tonight?”

At first her reaction is to freeze up. She has no idea what to make of this, whatever this is.

“Um… I guess. Should I bring Aaron?” There’s a long pause. “Or should I leave him with Caity?”

Still, even presented with the alternative, it is too long before Mick answers.

“Your call.” He eventually says, “You can, nothing bad is gonna happen or anything. But… might be easier to talk if…”

She nods, even though he can’t see it.

“Got it.”

* * *

“But it’s movie night.” Caitlin whines, her last-ditch attempt to get Frost not to go off somewhere with Mick tonight.

It isn’t working.

“So what?” Frost asks, looking briefly over her shoulder. She’s getting Aaron changed into a new onesie, for some reason, the one he was wearing before looked fine to Caitlin.

“Frost.” Caitlin sighs, folding her arms and leaning herself against the wall of her sister’s bedroom.

Her sister.

It’s still strange to think even in her own mind, she has a sister. She _is_ a sister, and she may be new to it but isn’t it her responsibility to try and keep her sister from making a stupid mistake?

“I really don’t think you should be going out with Mick.”

Frost pauses, or she tries to anyway. Aaron is currently squirming every which way and she can’t afford to give him even an inch of leeway.

“It’s not a date, Caity.”

Call her crazy, but Caitlin doesn’t believe that.

“It’s not?”

Frost huffs, and after another minute of wrestling with Aaron she lifts him onto her hip and turns around. Caitlin notices some kind of writing on his new onesie but it’s too pressed into Frost’s side for her to read, not that she is really focusing on it at the moment. She has bigger issues.

“I don’t know.” She admits, “If it is then I will get right back in the car and come home, I promise.”

With that she starts marching out of the room, right past Caitlin, and so she follows.

“I’m not exactly looking to date right now, especially not Mick.”

Caitlin arches an eyebrow, stopping at the couch while Frost goes into the kitchen, opens up the fridge, nods and mutters something to herself, then closes the fridge.

“Really?” Caitlin asks as Frost comes and marches past her, going back into her room only to emerge again a minute later.

“Really.” She says as she comes back, “We’re on good terms right now and I’m not ready to mess with it.”

Caitlin considers that, and she finds that she believes it for now. But Mick has always had some weird place in Frost’s heart, so she can’t help wondering if Frost’s opinions will change once she gets there and find this is, in fact, a date.

“Ok,” Frost says, “There’s bags of milk in the fridge, I doubt I’ll be gone so long you have to feed him more than once but if so there’s plenty in there. We’ve got plenty of diapers.”

Caitlin is only half listening, as she knows all of this already. Still, it’s sweet. After five months this is the first time Frost is really leaving Aaron for longer than twenty minutes, so she’ll bite her tongue on how she lives here too and knows the location of all the supplies by heart.

Frost is mid-instructions and turning back toward her room again when Cisco walks in. The two of them make eye contact, him silently asking what is going on and why Frost is marching all around the apartment like a mad woman. Caitlin shrugs and just then Frost reappears with her jacket on and her bag slung over her shoulder.

“Hey Cisco.” She huffs as she approaches him, “Thanks for babysitting.”

“What?” Cisco asks, whirling his head between her and Frost, and Caitlin can’t help but to chuckle despite everything; the expression of bewilderment on his face is priceless.

“Ok,” Frost says, hiking Aaron up higher on her side. “Bye baby. I’ll be back soon, be good. Bye-bye.”

She gives him a big, pressing kiss on his cheek and then deposits him into Cisco’s arms, thanks them one more time and bids them goodbye, and then she’s gone.

Cisco stares at the closed door for a moment, before swiveling his attention to her.

“What just happened?”

She laughs, and shrugs. “Long story.”

“Ok… And what’s this about?”

He turns Aaron outwards to show what he’s talking about, his fingers carefully placed as so to leave visible as much as possible of the writing she hadn’t been able to see before. She steps closer, squinting her eyes and mouthing the words to herself as she reads them.

_My Auntie is single. Wanna be my new Uncle?_

She rolls her eyes, where did Frost even find that?

“Apparently Frost thinks we have some feelings to discuss.”

He knits his eyebrows together, and adjusts his hold on Aaron so that the baby is dangling securely at his front.

“Do we?” He asks, stepping closer. “Something change?’

She crosses her arms over herself, shrugs, frowns, and takes half a step closer. “Not that I’m aware of.”

He nods, and yet now they are standing barely an inch apart from each other, so close that Aaron is able to reach out and grab a tiny fistful of her sweater and she doesn’t really notice because she is so caught up in how Cisco’s eyes are searching her for some sort of feelings, and maybe she is searching him too.

She does notice, however, when her nephew gives her sweater a tug and she is so caught off guard that she goes stumbling forward. On instinct she leans to the side, hoping that if she can’t get her footing she will at least fall onto the couch and not onto Cisco and the baby. As she tries to catch her footing a strong hand latches onto her arm and helps, and holds her and brings her back up while she gets her balance back. Aaron has been relocated to Cisco’s side with just one arm holding him there, the other arm guiding her back.

She can see it in his eyes, the worry, which is pointless because really how bad could this have gone? She stumbled what? An inch? And there’s a couch right here.

Ok, maybe they do have a few things to talk about.

* * *

Frost pulls into the parking lot at the address Mick gave her. It’s an apartment building. Not what she was expecting but then again she doesn’t really know what that would be.

Maybe a dive bar?

She locks up the car and heads into the lobby, where right away she sees Mick leaning up against the back wall.

“Hey,” she says, approaching him and letting her eyes wander around the room. It’s small, empty, with mailboxes on one wall and an elevator on the other. Nothing special. “What’s going on?”

He huffs and pushes off the wall, “Come on.”

He heads over for the elevator and pushes the button to go up, and keeps his focus on the door.

She just stares at him at first, confused and half tempted to demand to know what is going on and what they are doing in this building. But for whatever reason she doesn’t. Instead she follows him into the elevator wordlessly, and she watches as he presses the button for the third floor and the doors close.

He doesn’t say anything the whole way up, neither does she. She wants to. She has about a million questions burning inside of her, and maybe the fact that she can’t decide on the best one to start with is the reason she is still quiet when the elevator dings it’s arrival and he starts to lead her down the hall.

Eventually he stops in front of a door that reads 3G and pulls out a key, and as if that isn’t strange enough when he opens the door and reveals what is inside the apartment this whole night gets that much weirder.

“You wanted to show me an empty apartment?” She asks, stepping through the door and putting her hands on her hips.

There isn’t anything in here, at all.

“I’ve uh…” He starts as he shuts the door and then comes to stand next to her. “I’ve been holed up in one of Snart’s and mine’s old safe houses the last couple weeks.”

He gestures around at the space, his eyes roaming over it with a sense of appraisal similar to hers, but different.

“Getting your messages on the ship… Every time I open ‘em I feel like an asshole.”

She blinks, her heart sinking as she looks up at him.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be.” He interrupts her, his face serious. “Got me thinking. I feel like an ass missing my kid’s childhood, maybe I should be here.”

It feels like her eyes are bugging out of her head. Suddenly this whole apartment and its weight seem to crash over her. This isn’t an old safe house. This is a new place. This is what he’s been doing for the past few weeks, getting this place.

“I ain’t looking for split custody of the kid or anything.” He says, and she doesn’t want to examine how much of a relief that instills in her. “But I figure hanging around here, maybe I could see more of ya, and him. If that’s ok.”

He looks like he is trying his damndest not to squirm in his spot. In fact she doesn’t think she has ever seen him look so small, so unsure of himself, and she has no idea how to respond to it.

She looks around the room, trying to imagine it furnished and decorated. She tries to imagine bringing Aaron here just to hang out. Her and Mick sitting on the couch watching a movie with their son nodding off in one of their laps. She tries to imagine having Mick here, being able to see him not only when the world is ending but also on a random Saturday. She lets herself think about Aaron crawling around on this floor, or maybe some day down the line bringing him here to spend the night. Maybe just him and Mick, maybe…

She pushes that thought away. It’s way too soon.

Still, if he got this apartment to be a part of Aaron’s life she almost wants to ask if this place is one or two bedrooms, but she gets the feeling that would be a little too much of a push.

It doesn’t matter anyway, not right now.

“I’d like that.”

* * *

She would like that, but it turns out getting Caity on board is another fight entirely. True, it isn’t like Mick needs Caity’s permission to come around more often, nor does she need it in order to let him. But the point of it isn’t permission. The point of it is Caity is her sister - not to mention her roommate - and she would like to not fight with her.

So, when her initial recap of where she spent her evening doesn’t go over all that great and ends in Cisco excusing himself she promises they can talk about it once she’s in her pajamas and has checked on Aaron.

So, here they are; each at one end of the couch with their knees drawn up and Caity staring her down while she focuses on the frayed end of a blanket, which her fingers are fraying even more.

“Frost.”

She glances up, briefly, but she doesn’t say anything and soon returns to picking at the corner of the throw blanket.

“Frost I don’t have anything against Mick knowing his son. I just don’t think you guys spending so much time together is a good idea.”

“Who said anything about ‘so much time’?” She asks with a frown.

“He got an apartment.”

“And that’s bad?” She deadpans, glancing up again. “We have a kid together. Not avoiding each other is probably the best thing we can do.”

“There is a difference between not avoiding and playing with fire.”

She snorts, picking at the corner of the blanket again. “What?” She asks, “You think we’re going to jump each other soon as we start getting along?”

“That’s how it’s ended twice now.”

She frowns, bites frustrated at her lower lip, and she wants to be mad but ok, Caity might have a point there. She also doesn’t want to pick a fight and start yelling at the risk of waking Aaron, so instead she crosses her legs and sits up, the corner of the blanket still clutched in her hands.

“I am not going to lie to you and say that I don’t still have feelings for Mick.” She deadpans, “But things were different then, and we know that. We are both adults. The last thing we want to do is screw up our son by rushing into something with each other. So we are going to be around each other, we are going to be friends, and we are _not _going to get into bed together again any time soon.”

For the first time since this conversation started Caity looks down to her lap, but Frost holds her eyes steady on her.

“Have some faith in me.” She requests, “I know when enough is enough.”

When Caity looks up Frost is surprised to see there is actually a glimmering moisture in her eyes, and when she breathes out it’s heavy; fighting off the tears.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

The corner of her lips quirk up in a little smile. “You’ll be here to catch me if I do.”

Caity beams at that, not denying it, and so Frost leans back and settles herself against the armrest of the couch.

“So…” She trails, “How are things with you and Cisco?”

The response she gets is a pillow to the face.

“We’re going to dinner on Friday.”

* * *

She likes to think that Caity warms up to the idea of Mick being around. At the very least, she keeps any judgments she has about it to herself. Even when Frost helps him with getting his apartment set up, and cons Ralph into helping too.

That is a friendship she never saw coming.

Ralph and Mick are uneasy around each other at first, from her understanding, but within a matter of weeks the two of them are practically best friends, even if Mick claims he doesn’t have friends.

“He’s the only one of you idiots I haven’t tried to kill yet.” He argues one night while the two of them are monitoring comms, Aaron situated comfortably on his lap and being bounced lightly on his knee.

“You never tried to kill me.” She points out.

“I kidnapped your sister and would’ve killed her if things went south, you were still living in her head.”

She shrugs, that’s a fair enough point.

Mick grimaces right then, and she does too, because suddenly there is an overwhelming smell of shit.

“Geez kid,” Mick grumbles as he gets up, moving Aaron up over his shoulder and holding him like a sack of flour as he heads for the med room where they keep a few diapers.

* * *

Smirking to herself Frost cuts up another potato. It’s the night before Christmas Eve and Ralph and Cisco are _supposed _to be helping her and Caity get ready for the party at S.T.A.R. Labs tomorrow. So far she and Caity have done all the cooking, Ralph is apparently too busy playing with Aaron to help, and Cisco hasn’t even shown up yet.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle!” Ralph continues to chant, and Aaron lets out yet another loud laugh. She looks up and laughs a bit herself. Ralph is standing in the center of the living room, holding Aaron upside down with one arm and using the opposite hand to tickle his feet. “Tickle, tickle, tickle!”

“Don’t let all the blood rush to his head.” She calls in, and Ralph laughs but turns Aaron around and starts to calm down, approaching the kitchen with Aaron held properly at his front.

“Relax he’s fine, we do this all the time.”

She raises an eyebrow, and briefly considers exactly how often she leaves Ralph alone with her son. He’s lucky, because before she can question him there is a knock at the door and then it opens to reveal Cisco with a brown paper bag clutched in one arm.

“I come bearing gifts!” He announces dramatically, and while Ralph is sufficiently focused on the sudden new arrival Frost catches her son making a grab for a potato chunk and so she lays down her knife and takes him.

“Christmas Eve is tomorrow.” Caitlin comments, walking around from behind the counter to first give her boyfriend a kiss – much to Frost’s enjoyment – and then to see what “gifts” he’s brought.

It is, of course, alcohol.

“And Joe is only going to let me have so much eggnog, so let me have this.”

Caity rolls her eyes, Frost just laughs.

By the end of night the potatoes are all mashed and they’ve made stuffed mushrooms as well. _Christmas with the Kranks _is playing on the TV and depicting a mad race to get a Christmas party set up. Caity and Cisco are curled up at one of the couch asleep, Ralph is sitting in the middle still watching the movie, and Frost is laying with her legs across his lap and Aaron – who simply refuses to go down to sleep – sitting straddled on her stomach with her hands holding onto his.

Actually, his eyes are starting to droop and so is the rest of him. She shifts her hands to be under his arms and then sits herself up, being careful not to move him too much.

“I’m gonna see if he’ll go down.” She informs Ralph, and then she swings her legs onto the ground and gets up slowly, keeping Aaron held lightly against her chest and trying to avoid bringing him back from the brink of sleep.

He grunts and moves a bit, but settles down soon as she starts rocking him and whispering shushing noises into his ear.

“It’s bedtime baby.” She whispers, still bouncing him lightly as she moves down the hall and into their shared bedroom. “Bedtime.”

She keeps bouncing him, her eyes watching his and she can see how hard he is fighting sleep.

_“Boy,”_ she starts to sing softly, because it turns out Ralph’s love of country music is good for something. _“You’re gonna know it all, you’ll think you’re ten feet tall, and run like you’re bulletproof._ _ You’re gonna drop the ball, hit the wall, I know you will. Cause you’re a part of me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you guys again SO MUCH and I hope you've enjoyed reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I don't know what I'll be doing next in terms of fic, but I hope you guys keep me in mind!
> 
> The song Frost uses as a lullaby is "Boy" by Lee Brice, for anyone who is wondering.


End file.
